Mile High Mayhem
by Eire Rose
Summary: Nick and Heath, along with their wives - Priscilla and Sarah - are in Colorado to deal with Hester's estate. While there an unknown adversary tries to kill Heath. Can the brothers figure out who and why before it is too late?
1. Chapter One

_**Author's Note: This story is a mystery, set in Denver and Georgetown, Colorado. It is a follow-up to 'The Glitter & The Gold' and features Nick and Heath, along with their wives Priscilla and Sarah. The majority of the story will be in 'Victoria's Parlor' but some chapters, because of content will be 'Behind Closed Doors'.**_

 **Jarrod's Office, Stockton, California – May 1879**

 _Excerpts from Chapter Fifty-Three; 'The Glitter & The Gold'_

"I am also proposing Heath Barkley as one of the trustees, specifically to deal with the mining rights." Priscilla turned to look at Heath, tilting her head at him. "Heath, you would have liked Joseph; you two were very similar. Part of the reason why Joseph was in Switzerland was because he was looking into devices to increase safety in the mines. I know how important that issue is to you also, and am aware that you are very knowledgeable about the industry." Her words resonated with him, and he felt gratified he was getting credit for what he wanted to achieve.

Heath himself was stunned at what he was being offered; to bring the largest producing mines up to the latest safety standards was a challenge and an honor. He had campaigned with so many mine owners, to treat their workers better, which would lead to higher production. The Barkley mines had given him the chance to test his theories, but they were only a small part of California and Nevada output. The rich veins in the Colorado Rockies would give him a bigger scale – and a national presence – to showcase the importance of safety.

"Heath, Nick and I are planning a trip to Denver in October, after the round-up and state fair." They had finished the meeting and Heath was getting ready to leave when Priscilla came over and put her slim, delicate, jeweled hand on his arm. "There are several matters, in regard to Hester, that I need to take care of in person. I – well Nick and I – would like you and Sarah to come along. It would give you the chance to visit the mines and meet the owners." She regarded him with a questioning smile, her wide blue eyes framed by dark full lashes which were striking.

"Yes, that would be great. I would enjoy the chance to see Colorado." Heath swallowed hard, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. Priscilla had never been anything other than kind to both him and Sarah. He knew that it was because of his sister-in-law that the community had reached out to Sarah. It bothered him that Sarah consistently refused those overtures, whether they came from her mother, Victoria, Audra or Priscilla.

Heath knew he was the only person who truly understood Sarah's feelings about society – her father's ordeal had been so much for her. On the other hand he knew exactly what was at stake, and he hoped that his wife would understand and not want him to walk away from this great opportunity. Of course October was five months away, and a great deal could happen.

 **Denver, Colorado - June 1879**

The moon was low in the sky and faint, the last quarter of its progress. Spring had come on time to Denver this year, with none of the late snows the region could experience. The trees and bushes were all in bloom, making the man lurking in the lilacs glad for the hiding space they provided. The blossom's scent was overwhelming his nostrils, even as the waning moon seemed to hang heavy over his head; he hoped that the phase of the moon wasn't an omen of his fate. His plans had been going so well until April, when the death of his nemesis had occurred. At first he was sure that it was a stroke of good fortune, that she was gone from this earth. Unfortunately like a cursed wraith, she wouldn't let him go.

He rubbed the black felt workman's gloves, the palms and fingers lined with leather to provide extra traction. The fabric was rough against his skin, which was accustomed to fine calfskin and silk. His whole outfit was bothersome, but he needed to blend into the darkness as much as possible. This was his second visit to house, and he wanted to be as careful as possible.

The news of the woman's death had caused a flurry of activity around the house, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to search for what he needed to find. There was also the issue that for once he couldn't hire someone else to do the job, but needed to take it on by himself. Carefully he waited until the inventory had been done, and then several more weeks while the constables who patrolled the area were extra vigilant because of a newly empty house.

However by the end of May things had settled down and he'd done his first search, after making sure the elderly caretaker wouldn't cause trouble. All the servants had been let go, with good references and nice purses of money to find other jobs. The older man's main task was to stay in the house, to keep thieves out; it was easy work and handsomely paid.

The searcher knew that the man liked to amble two streets over, to the Gold Nugget, a saloon that catered to the house servants who worked in the nearby mansions. Before the first excursion he'd made sure that a special powder had been added to the man's brew, guaranteeing him a solid night's sleep. Tonight he'd put the same plan in place, tipping the barmaid well to make sure the caretaker would be asleep.

Judging the time right, the black clad man entered through the side patio French doors; the last time he'd been in the house he'd put resin putty in the lock, to keep it from closing all the way. His plan was not to bother with the main floor rooms, instead heading upstairs to search for what he needed to find. The last time he'd turned the woman's bedroom inside out, along with her dressing room but had not found anything.

There had been the worry that the object would be discovered during the inventory, but that had been over two months ago. Since nothing had come to light he decided that it had not been found, meaning it wasn't somewhere easily accessible. His plan tonight was Joseph's dressing room – what a joke if she'd hidden it under her husband's nose, along with the guest rooms and attic, if he could get up there.

Entering the back drawing room he moved quickly across it and into the main hall, turning to walk up the main staircase. His progress was halted by a figure entering the room, carrying a lantern and looking straight at him. The black clad figure froze, shocked that the caretaker was not asleep in his room at the back of the house.

The intruder didn't know why the caretaker wasn't passed out in his room, but he didn't have time to worry about it. The elderly man raised the lantern to get a better look, and the other man knew he couldn't let his face be seen. Casting a quick look around the hall he noticed a large Chinese vase on a pedestal; without a second thought he grabbed it and taking two large steps came up next to the caretaker and brought it down on his head.

The elderly man was out cold, and so the black clad figure thought he could still get his search in. Or so he thought, until he heard the constable outside, knocking on the door, and demanding to know what was going on. The intruder realized that the policeman must have been right outside when the breaking of the vase happened. Cursing his bad luck, he retreated quickly back the way he'd come in, and once outside used the bushes that outlined the back property to make his escape.

When he arrived at his dwelling, he poured himself a generous helping of scotch, while silently berating his foul up tonight. He knew that when the inheritor heard about this break-in, they would double security. His plans were foiled, and he would have to work hard to come up with another way to get into the house. All he had to do was find the item before the deadline, and he would be safe and set for life, he mused, drinking his scotch in one gulp.

 _ **Denver, Colorado – October 1879**_

Hollady Street was gaudily lit up, with gas lights drawing attention to buildings that bore cheap, faux fixtures of iron and stone. Nelson's Establishment – the sign done in garish colors - announced steak, dancing girls, and whiskey. Below the sign, but above the roughly carved double doors, was a fanlight of stained glass; it was backlit with more gas lights.

The _Tenderloin_ of Denver – that district where all kinds of pleasure could be experienced – if one had the cash – was far removed mentally, if not physically from the rest of Denver. Hollady Street was the main thoroughfare of the Tenderloin – several streets around Hollady also had various emporiums of pleasure and vice, but the ones on Hollady were the top of the heap. It proved the old saying that only two things rose to the top – scum and cream. It was a fitting epithet, since many of the millionaires could be found in the dens along Hollady Street.

The sharp featured man hugged the luxurious collar of his jacket closer to his neck, as he adjusted the cashmere scarf to ward against the cold wind coming down from the Rocky Mountains. October in Denver could be as gentle as spring, or as fierce as winter – oftentimes both in the same week. Earlier today, and the last week the weather had been glorious; Indian Summer. Now though, the winds coming down from the Front Range carried the threat of cold and frost.

Winter was going to come early, the man thought with pleasure, thinking how it would help his plans. However, before anything could happen he had to find Abner, a mercenary who hung out in the Tenderloin district. He had used Abner before being referred by a previous business partner; Abner was quick, detailed and precise. The man also kept his mouth shut, provided he was paid handsomely up front. The only drawback was the meeting place, which Abner dictate.

Now his closed carriage rolled slowly down the street, the pungent smell of the bottom side of life wafting up to his pinched nostrils in a pointed nose. Several fancy women tried to catch his attention, but he turned a blind eye to their enticements, such as they were. In truth he'd given up on physical gratification a long time ago, finding more pleasure in making money.

"Yo there Governor! Ride to the next block?" A smallish man, wearing a brown cloth overcoat and a worn brown felt pork pie hat hailed the driver of the well maintained carriage. The driver was well trained, and resisted the impulse he had, to flick his whip at this scum who dated to approach the conveyance.

The Master inside the carriage looked out the window, and recognized the man right away; he signaled for the carriage to stop. The man in brown climbed inside, and greeted the owner with an almost arrogant bravado. The owner of the carriage clenched his left hand tightly, causing deep creases in the grey leather gloves.

If only he didn't need this man's services, he mused to himself, before he remembered the reason he needed them. Everything had been just fine, even with the added complication of the deaths, until his scheme was threatened with ruin. Sighing he brought his mind back to the present, wanting to get the deal done as soon as possible and get the man out of his carriage. Hixon, the driver, would have to clean the interior with his special mixture of beeswax, lemon, and mind, which took care of odors.

"In four days' time this man will arrive in Denver, on the _Eastern Suncatcher_." The well-dressed man extended a picture, cut from a newspaper. "I want him dead, but it has to look like an accident; I suggest the train station, as it will be very busy at that time."

"Now ya needs to understand that I don't be told how to do my job." Abner huffed with annoyance, as he took the picture to study it, best as he could in the lighting of the club. He was all set to say more, but the other man raised his hand to stop him.

"No, trying to knife him the street won't work; he isn't the kind to be prowling around at night, especially alone." The man in the fine worsted wool snapped, a sneer of disgust coming over his face, as he thought about the victim. "It has to be an accident, and I know that you are very good at your work. Here is some money now, and the balance will be paid when the man is dead." The envelope was discreetly passed to Abner, who knew he didn't need to count it; they knew the game all too well.

"Can I know the man's name and why you want him dead; on your terms?" Abner questioned, feeling insulted that his skills were being called into question. There was also the fact that he wanted to learn as much as possible; in his line of work both the killer and killee could yield valuable information.

"Why I want him dead is my business." The impeccably dressed man in his bespoke English clothing replied. "His name is Heath Barkley." The chuckle gave way to a cold hard sneer, causing Abner to feel a wave of dread over take him. He knew all about the dark side of life, but there was something in the other man's eyes that had him feeling very scared.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

Nick, in the bedroom, felt the train curve around a bend, and easily let his body move with the railcar. It helped that the motion brought him into even closer contact with Priscilla. Her body was soft, smooth, and close against his, with no night clothes causing a barrier. He'd actually woken up an hour earlier, when the sun peaked, an ingrained habit from years of ranch work.

Priscilla by now was used to his schedule, as well as being an early riser herself, so she had awoken also. He had then remembered that he wasn't on the ranch, and didn't need to go to the morning chores. Nick had told Priscilla that, and she had responded with suggestions of what he could do, since they were both awake. They had been husband and wife for over three months, so Nick had no issues on taking her up on her suggestions.

After their wedding in June they had enjoyed three incredible weeks in a cottage along the coast, just north of Los Angeles. There was a cove with a small sail boat, which he and Priscilla had taken out many times. Nick had shown her how to the work the sails and she turned out to be quite the sailor. They fished off of the boat too, and he was impressed at her casting ability. It didn't surprise him to learn that she'd been fly-fishing in Scotland on a trip with her grandparents.

On more than one occasion, after they'd brought the boat back into the cove, they'd lit a fire and cooked their catch as the setting sun surrounded them with pink and gold rays of light. Nick always made sure a bottle of wine was waiting, and after dinner they would cuddle together under a blanket. The love they made, as the fire burned dim and the waves crashed against the rocks was an experience that he never wanted to forget.

Priscilla was a generous, passionate woman, who met him fully every time they came together. Nick still couldn't believe his luck, and said silent prayers never to do anything to mess his good fortune up. Once the honeymoon was done they'd gone down to San Diego, which was really just a continuation of their wedding trip.

He had procured, through one of his friends, a villa that overlooked the bay in San Diego. Zack Morton was marrying Priscilla's best friend; Phoebe was in fact the only daughter of the man who ran the chandler shop that supplied the US Pacific Fleet. The wedding was a grand celebration, the highlight being the reception at the Officer's Club of the US Navy base, which overlooked the ocean.

Nick and Priscilla had both found it a relief to come home to the ranch after all the festivies; Victoria and Jarrod had organized a huge homecoming for the couple. He had proudly swept Priscilla over the threshold of the house, as the family watched. A barbecue had followed, attended by the ranch hands, their families, and the tenant farmers. However he'd barely had a week to enjoy being at home with Priscilla, before he'd had to leave for the round up. The two weeks he was gone were the longest and most miserable period in his life. Heath had finally had to take him aside and warn him against driving the men and cows too hard, in his hast to get back home.

In late August they'd gone to Sacramento for the state fair, and the Governor's Ball, a highlight of the northern California social season. Nick had won the shooting contest, but his joy at that at been eclipsed by the occasion of escorting Priscilla down the grand staircase of the Governor's Mansion. He had been very touched when Victoria had offered Priscilla a diamond cascading necklace, which went perfectly with the Duchess' earrings.

Nick had seen the appreciation and joy in his wife's eyes, when she'd accepted the offer, and in his opinion she'd been the star of the evening. He also privately was glad that his wife and mother got along so well. Nick's reminiscence was halted, as Priscilla nestled against him, slowly waking up. He knew the ritual well by now, and let her body slowly move against his, while she stirred from her sleep.

"Mmm, I do like waking up with you." Priscilla murmured, as Nick's whiskery face nuzzled against her neck. He heard her comment and grunted happily, as he laid butterfly kisses on her soft, creamy exposed skin. Nick made it a point to be gentle, so as not to leave the marks he sometimes would on her skin. For the duration of the next week, they were in the close quarters of the railcar, with Heath and Sarah.

"Well that is good to hear, since I like waking up with you too, even if it is on the train." Nick adjusted his long legs, making a mental note that the next time the car was redecorated; a longer bed was needed in the main bedroom. "Honestly, I'm still not sure this trip is a good idea." He added, moving so that his face was next to hers. Priscilla's blue eyes were soft and slightly unfocused, the result of their recent lovemaking. She was an amazing lover, beguiling him with fire and passion behind closed doors.

"Nicky, it will be all right!" Priscilla declared, reaching up to kiss his lips. Nick though wasn't going to be put off by the gesture, even as he enjoyed the kiss. She had told him just barely a week ago that she was not quite two months along, which had made him want to shout the news from the housetop. Priscilla had cautioned him though that it was safer to wait until after three months, just to make sure everything was all right. "I still wished you would have agreed to seeing Doc Merar." Instead she had fobbed off that suggestion, saying there was no reason until the third or fourth month.

"We have been down this road before, Nicholas. Women have borne children for generations, and as of now all the symptoms I have are perfectly normal." Priscilla let her hands caress his chest, and Nick felt his ardor stirring. "Now this is a simple trip, and I will get lots of rest. A few parties and dealing with the trust and Hester's house – which I will have help with – will not be taxing in the least." Her soft fingers moved lower, to where his manhood was rising with excitement.

"I guess I have to take your word for all this, but just be aware that no party or meeting is worth you overtiring yourself; do you understand?" Nick growled, as he moved so that she was underneath him, as his hips moved against hers. "Sissi I love you so much, and will protect you and our child no matter what!" Her reply was lost, as she moved so that he could settle against her femaleness, making love to her.

It was almost an hour later that he left the bedroom, giving Soo instructions not to disturb his wife until she was ready. In reality he knew that Soo Lin would look after Priscilla; the man's dark eyes missed nothing. Nick privately chuckled that Soo was undoubtedly already planning the birth gift, something in accordance with his beliefs. Soo Lin held Priscilla in great regard, and Granny Elspeth – who knew the customs of the Far East – in even higher esteem. Whatever Soo presented to Priscilla, Nick knew his wife would receive it with great pleasure, understanding the symbolism the gift came with.

Nick walked down the narrow hallway, into the common area where the dining and sitting areas were, and saw Heath and Sarah sitting close at the table. They looked happy and relaxed, and Nick didn't want to interrupt the couple's private time together. Instead he moved into the small kitchen, out of sight of the table.

He had many qualms about his brother's marriage, even before the incident at the rehearsal dinner of his wedding. He'd shared a family anecdote, but Sarah had overreacted; later Nick was to see that she did that routinely, making him feel sorry for Heath. On more than one occasion he'd beat himself up for the part he'd played in Heath's courtship of Sarah.

Sarah had been resistant to Heath's overtures, even as Nick had noted how his brother was attracted to her. Heath had been miserable ever since Sharon Callahan had turned him down, not wanting to go against her family and church.

Nick had seen Sarah as a kind, gentle person, in need of the care and rescuing that Heath could provide so well. The story of her father had been splayed over all the papers, and Victoria had in fact gone out of her way to befriend Penny. The woman was setting up a dressmaking shop, having been left with almost nothing after the financial debacle that Wilton Rose had orchestrated. Even as he thought about his mother, Nick remembered how cautious she'd been about Heath and Sarah's courtship. At one point she'd taken him aside and told him to step back, as Sarah and Heath needed to find their own way.

Thinking about the incident at the rehearsal dinner, and remembering Sarah's refusal to participate in Audra's or his wedding; well it made him wonder what his mother had seen that he hadn't. Realizing that focusing on the past wouldn't change anything; he forced himself to recall Priscilla's words of caution. He had not listened to his mother, but with all the water under the bridge he would listen to his wife.

She had caught on, during the celebration at the end of the round-up, and that weekend's Sunday dinner coolness on his part toward Sarah. For Nick those two events had been the first time he'd been around Sarah since the wedding, and seeing her had reminded him of their last encounter. Nick couldn't keep anything from Priscilla, and had told her the whole story, which caused her eyes to widen with shock and pain.

Priscilla had collected herself, and told Nick that they – he had liked how she'd put herself with him – needed to rise above the comment. She reminded Nick of the publicity around Sarah's father's death, and how it had changed her circumstances forever. Nick had replied that other people found themselves in reduced circumstances but kept their character. His kind hearted Sissi had replied yes that was true, but Sarah was Heath's wife and if he was cold to her his brother would pick up on Nick's attitude. Did he really want to alienate his brother, who loved Sarah? No, Priscilla had stated it wasn't their idea of marriage, but clearly Heath was happy and that was what mattered.

Nick reminded himself of Sissi's words, as he turned to go to the rear of the car; breakfast could wait he decided. Just as he was about to walk out Soo Lin saw him and smiled. Soo's gesture caused Heath and Sarah look in his direction, and Nick smiled as he put on a social face and went to join the table.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: The first several chapter are slow moving, but are needed to establish the 'backstory'. The action will start in Chapter Five.**_

 _ **Chapter Three**_

"Soo, is Mrs. Nick awake yet?" Sarah had gone to the back of the railcar, where Soo had his work area. She approached him cautiously, not being entirely comfortable with the man; something about his coal black eyes made her think the Oriental could see right through her. Sarah had been disappointed earlier when Nick had appeared alone in the dining area of the railcar, intruding on the pleasant conversation she was having with Heath. Further, without Priscilla being there, she knew that the brothers would be talking business more than likely.

Sarah didn't really resent Nick's appearance, but wondered if he was still upset about her rebuke to him at the rehearsal dinner. She had not liked how he'd brought her and Heath to public attention, and while Heath would never call Nick on it, she had no trouble doing so. When he and Priscilla had returned to the ranch, after a three week honeymoon and then another ten days in San Diego for Priscilla's friend's wedding Sarah had picked up on certain coldness from Nick towards her.

She knew that she was annoyed at how Nick had been happy to dump all the work on Heath, but knew that that was a line she couldn't cross. Sarah had always disliked Nick's often said phrase of _this is a working ranch_ when he wanted something done on his schedule. It didn't help her frame of mind that Heath always came across as so passive. So the whole ordeal of sitting through breakfast with Heath and Nick, while they discussed the ranch had been disheartening.

Nick's efforts to include her in the conversation had done nothing to soothe her feelings, as he referenced happenings he assumed she knew about it. In truth Heath didn't share a lot of his day's activities with her, so Sarah had been forced to feign a false knowledge and interest. Sarah could admit that over the last month Nick had seemed to make an effort with her, which made her wonder.

When she had inquired about Priscilla Nick had smiled and replied that she was still sleeping, but would be up in while. His comment left Sarah feeling like something wasn't being said, but she didn't have any idea how to follow that idea. While the conversation about the ranch circled around her, Sarah thought about the days ahead on the train, and had started to wonder if maybe she should just stay in bed too. When she'd agreed to the trip, back in the spring, Sarah had not really thought about all that it entailed.

"Missy Nick, she is just now waking up. I'm taking her some tea." Soo Lin's heavily accented English interrupted her musing. Sarah watched as the man poured heated water into a fine porcelain tea pot, of Chinese origin. The ivory background set off an intricate scrolling design of dragons in red and blue; she knew that it was a valuable piece and it surprised her that it was on the train. What Soo did next though made Sarah forget all about the tea service.

She watched as he took a small piece of what Sarah thought was a plant root, bleached to a beige color. Soo took a small metal instrument, like a file and grated some of the root into the tea pot. Sarah was intrigued as to what Soo was doing and asked him about the extra ingredient.

"Ginger, Missy Heath, ginger." Soo beamed, as he went on "so good for digestion." He bowed and then went back to finishing the tea. A hard knot formed in her stomach. Quickly excusing herself, Sarah rushed to the end of the car, and opened the door, to step out on the platform. She filled her lungs quickly with fresh air, not noticing the countryside passing by.

Sarah remembered Audra, on the train ride to the state fair in Sacramento. Carl and Audra had announced, at the end of August that she was enceinte and due in January. At the time of the state fair she was still having stomach issues, and Soo Lin had made tea with grated ginger in it, for her. Audra had stated that the beverage helped her nausea abate.

The remark about Priscilla sleeping in, instead of coming to breakfast, made sense if she was also enceinte. Sarah did some quick math, and figured that her sister-in-law could be six weeks to two months along. If in fact Priscilla was with child, Sarah's life would turn into a miserable experience, as she knew all too well.

When Audra and Carl had announced their _good news_ – at family Sunday dinner – everyone had cheered for them. Over the next couple of weeks, as the news spread, Sarah had become aware of people giving her sideways glances, or looking closely at her waistline. She and Heath had married a month before Audra and Carl; more than one woman, either at the dress shop or a social event had _oh so casually_ mentioned as they talked about Audra.

Heath had been present on one occasion, and he'd put his arm around Sarah, as he pulled her aside. He'd whispered into her ear that they had plenty of time, and he was enjoying having her all to himself. Sarah had felt better after that, until the following Sunday, when after dinner Victoria had invited her to go for a walk in the garden. Wanting to make an effort with Heath's mother she had gone along; at first the conversation at been about the late summer blooms.

Victoria had then shifted the subject, talking about the early years of her marriage to Tom. Sarah thought this was just an older woman reminiscing, until she offered, in a low voice, that she and Tom had been married for almost five years before Jarrod was born. The idea of Victoria sharing this piece of person information should have been touching, but instead Sarah only wondered where the confidence was coming from.

Had Heath said something to his mother, about what people were saying in town? If so Sarah would be upset that he was having private talks with his mother about them. Victoria must have realized what Sarah was thinking, because she went on to explain that she'd shared the fact with Sarah, in case the young woman was concerned. The older woman said that when she was in that situation it hadn't bothered her, because she was busy helping Tom with his business.

Other people though, Victoria went on, were very concerned for her, which she'd found tiresome. Sarah smiled in reassurance, understanding that he mother-in-law was just trying to be kind. By then they were back at the house, which thankfully ended the discussion.

Sarah recalled all that, and sighed heavily because she knew that if Priscilla was with child, once it was announced the scrutiny would start all over again. What no one knew, even Heath, was that Sarah had no interest in having a baby. When she first married she'd not given it a great deal of thought; by the second month of her marriage that had changed.

When she and Heath returned from their honeymoon, she'd tried to be a good wife, doing things at the house and having food waiting for him when he came home. By the second week though the isolation was making her climb wall the walls. She'd grown up in a town house in a bustling city, with people always around. Yes, she'd hired someone to do the housework, and could probably hire someone to cook also. However, that still left her living in a house in the middle of nowhere.

She knew that the big house was a little over a mile as the crow flew, but the way her house was situated, it might as well have been two hundred miles. At the time they'd built it, Heath had been so excited, showing her the plans he'd already drawn up. It had surprised her that he'd drawn them up without consulting her, but he said she was welcome to make any changes she wanted.

In truth the plans looked fine, but she had worried about the location, and even asked Heath if he didn't want the house more central to the ranch. Heath though talked about how he liked location, because it felt like they were on their own. So by the second week of living in the house, Sarah had realized her fears had come true. Thank goodness her mother fell ill, and Sarah had to spend time with her, in town.

For Sarah, being back around people and in the shop was wonderful, and even after her mother recovered she continued to go into town. She would arrange her schedule so she had to spend several nights there, pleading business and her mother's delicate health as an excuse to Heath. The experience of being stuck in the isolated house made Sarah aware that if she became with child she would be right back there, confined for months. There was the matter to of all the plans she had for the business over the next couple of years; a child just wasn't in them.

There was no way she could deny Heath her bed, and she enjoyed the time they spent together; he was gentle and thrilling all at the same time. She had also seen how he was willing to agree to anything she wanted after they'd had relations. It was a dilemma, because she didn't want to find herself in the family way. A trip to San Francisco though had solved the problem for her.

It was their third month of marriage, and each time Aunt Flo had come she'd heaved a sigh of relief. Sarah had to go to San Francisco to buy some fabric, but Heath wasn't able to come with her, because of ranch duties. She was privately glad that he wasn't coming, because he really didn't enjoy the city or the things she liked to do.

On her second day there, she'd gone to the fabric warehouse in the Asian section of the city. Sarah had discovered, on an early fabric buying trip that the so-called wholesalers in fact were middlemen themselves. The fabric came in from the Orient directly to the wharves in Chinatown, where it went to warehouses in the area.

She was in between bolts of fabric, trying to get a closer look at some embroidery when she heard the voices approach. Sarah realized that she was hidden from their sight and froze, not sure if she should step out or wait until they passed by. They moved closer and she was able to discern, from the conversation, that they worked in the wardrobe department of a theater.

The first time Sarah had been to the warehouse she'd been taken by surprise, on the different types of women who shopped there. She knew that as a lady she should have been shocked and put off at associating with some of the other customers, who tended to shop together. Instead Sarah discovered that she relished discretely listening to their conversations, which were like nothing she heard in her own society.

At first their voices were normal pitch, but then they dropped lower, which had Sarah tilting her head to hear better. The one woman mentioned that an actress had lost her role, because of being in the family way. Her companion had commented that didn't the imbecile listen to what she'd been told?

That was when Sarah had learned of Madame DuBonnet, and her establishment in Nob Hill. When she arrived back at her hotel she dispatched a note in a sealed envelope, using the woman's name as a means of introduction. Sarah had asked the head clerk at the fabric warehouse for the name; in her note she did not sign her real name. She was sure that Madame only took clients by referral, but Sarah wanted to keep her anonymity.

A reply was soon received, and the next day Sarah found herself at an impressive house in Nob Hill. Madame was an older woman with a heavy accent of some European language; Sarah wasn't sure what her origins were. Madame explained her methods, which included special sponges and vinegar. The fee for the information and supplies was very high in Sarah's opinion. It had been a great deal of cash to part with, but Sarah reasoned that she was insuring her freedom.

That trip seemed like a lifetime ago, and so, Madame's methods had worked. Cinders from the engine stinging her eyes made her wonder how long she'd been standing out on the platform. Sighing heavily, she turned back to head inside. Sarah wasn't looking to forward to the next several days on the train.

THANK YOU TO LIZWARTUS FOR THE BIRTHCONTROL INFORMATION.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

Sarah wrapped a wool shawl closer around her shoulders. Her skirt and blouse were cotton, and even the long sleeves didn't help against the cold of the Rockies coming through the windows of the railcar's second room. It was later in the afternoon Sarah judged, looking at the angle of the sun's rays. She'd been on the train for three days, but it felt like three weeks, as she'd struggled to occupy herself.

Heath was always busy with documents relating to the Colorado mines that made up the trust – which she was coming to resent. Priscilla slept in until almost 10:00 every day, and then took a nap after lunch. Oftentimes Nick, after having an after meal smoke with Heath on the platform at the rear of the car, would announce that he was going to check on Priscilla. Sarah had been very taken aback when she'd walked by the couple's room and heard certain unmistakable sounds coming from within.

She had resigned herself to the fact that Priscilla was enceinte; Sarah managed to console herself with that the couple would probably wait until they were back in California to announce the fact. It would be at one of those Sunday dinners that Heath loved so much. In the meantime she had to watch Nick being even more doting and affectionate than usual with Priscilla.

The man had always treated Priscilla as if she was a fragile object, even while engaging in way too public displays. Nick held Priscilla's hand, put his arm around her shoulder, caressed her back, and stroked her neck with a brazen familiarity. Priscilla for her part wasn't put off at all; instead she welcomed her husband's touches, cuddling close against him and giggling.

By the second day Sarah was over Priscilla and Nick, her reaction not being helped at how Heath had looked at them with joy and pleasure. It made her wonder if Nick had confided to Heath – god knows they were close. Sarah had also noted how Soo treated 'Missy Nick', as if she walked on water and needed constant attention.

Sarah took one last look around the small room, bracing herself against the sway of the train around yet another hard curve. She had retired here after lunch, on the pretext to rest; in reality she'd made notes in the journal she kept, about her business. There was no way that she would have let Heath stay with her in the middle of the day, if he'd even come into check on her. Instead he'd stayed in the parlor area, reading documents and drinking tea brewed by Soo Lin.

Forcing a pleasant smile on her face Sarah made her way towards the parlor, in the center of the car. After three hours by herself she was ready to make nice with Soo, just to have someone to talk to. Entering the sitting area, she was pleased to see Priscilla sitting on the padded bench against the wall, papers spread on the table in front of her. Sarah's eyes narrowed, as she took in Priscilla's outfit of a red wool skirt with ruffles at the hem, and a cream colored sweater with red rosettes woven into the design.

Priscilla's hair was put up in a pretty, elaborate updo, ornamented with red ribbon and a large bow. Sarah envied her sister-in-law being able to do her hair so; Priscilla had the thick, wavy hair that lent itself to many styles. Sarah's hair was long but fine; Heath compared it to silk but in the end it took her a great deal more work and aids of several hair rats, to achieve anywhere near the look Priscilla did so easily.

"Good Afternoon Sarah! I'm so glad to see you." Priscilla looked up at her, beaming a warm smile. It made Sarah feel bad about her earlier thoughts, since her sister-in-law was truly the nicest person in the world. Sarah could admit that she didn't envy Priscilla so much per se, just how satisfied she was with her life. It annoyed her because Sarah's life wasn't like anything she wanted at all, even as she admitted that only recently had she figured out exactly what she did want – or at least what she didn't want.

"I'm glad to see you too! What is going on?" Sarah forced her face into a smooth mask, pushing aside her private dissatisfaction. Instead she looked around the room, noticing the sun warming up the gold curtains at the windows. "Where are Heath and Nick?" She was more curious than she wanted to let on, since Heath had not come to their room, to say what he was going to do next.

"Well Nick went to go explore the other cars on the train, and ran into some men he knew from a horse auction in Virginia City." Priscilla said with a slight chuckle. "They invited Nick to a card game, and he got Heath to go along. I hope you don't mind, but Nick has really missed the chance to kick up his heels." She offered the apology, as if Sarah would be upset at Heath going off to play cards.

 _Did Priscilla see her as a controlling wife?_ Sarah wondered, but also admitted that in her private opinion Priscilla gave Nick more leeway than most wives would. She had heard that Nick still went drinking in the saloon several times a month, coming home worse for the wear. Heath would sometimes be with him, and would help Nick get home.

For his part Heath never imbibed too much, which made Sarah glad. The one time he'd had – at Audra's wedding – Sarah had left him dancing around the room with pink flowers adorning his head. When he'd come upstairs he had found the bedroom door locked, and ended up in a guest room. Heath had never done anything like that again, and Sarah wondered if maybe she should counsel Priscilla. However she didn't think it would do any good, even if Priscilla would listen to her, which she doubted.

Priscilla's use of the phrase 'Nick has really missed the chance to kick up his heels' showed Sarah that her sister-in-law had no problem with his behavior. Sarah wondered for a fleeting moment if Priscilla made Nick sleep in the guest room, but then decided probably not. She then pushed the thought of Priscilla's attitude to Nick aside; it wasn't her marriage, thank god. Of course, one part of her brain made the silent observation that Priscilla was happy while Sarah couldn't make the same claim.

"I'm glad that Heath is getting out; he's been so busy with all that paperwork. He's hardly had time to catch a breath." Sarah didn't mean to make the dig, and wished she could take it back. It was with relief that Priscilla seemed to have totally missed the underlying barb.

"You are so right about that. Honestly I think he's going to know more about mining in Colorado than the people already mining there." Priscilla gave her a sympathetic smile, and it came to Sarah that it was Heath's need to know everything that had him working so hard. Clearly it wasn't Priscilla driving him to pour through all those files.

"He already knows so much about mining; is it that different in Colorado?" Sarah questioned, hoping to get some insight into the trust that Priscilla and Jarrod had set up. She still couldn't figure it out, and especially why Nick wasn't involved at all.

"I think it is more the desire on Heath's part, to approach the mine owners as equals. The majority of these men are the richest men in the country." Priscilla paused, and Sarah could see that she was weighing her words. It made Sarah wonder if her sister-in-law had some insight into Heath that she didn't.

"Heath's experience, until he came to the Barkley's, was as a worker in the mines; not an owner." Priscilla stated, looking closely at Sarah, her wide blue eyes narrowing. It made Sarah feel like Priscilla was – almost judging her – because she didn't know this about her husband. Sarah could truthfully admit that she'd never given much thought to Heath's early background, because by the time she met him he was a full-fledged Barkley. Now though she pondered that if she'd paid more attention, she might not have ended up as blind-sided as she'd had been on those other occasions.

"So you think Heath is concerned about facing the rich mine owners? But he is a rich mine owner." Sarah replied, trying to sound confident in her statement about her husband.

"Well now it is one thing to be born to it, and another thing to earn it by hard work. Heath came to it all, by the back door so to speak." Priscilla's delicate hands, with their porcelain white skin, tapering fingers, and well-kept nails moved to gather up the paperwork in front of her. Her large ruby and diamond engagement ring, gleaming against the glowing gold wedding band caught light from the slowly setting sun. The gesture caused Sarah, after she'd admired Priscilla's hands – those of a lady of wealth and ease - to wonder what Priscilla had been working on, and she seized the opportunity to change the subject. It bothered her that the other woman might have a better understanding of Heath than Sarah did.

"Did I interrupt some important work?" Sarah inquired, loosening her grasp on her shawl to indicate the folder on the table. Sarah was still cold, and she wished that she'd packed warmer clothes as she looked at Priscilla's sweater.

"Just some paperwork for the school board; Rufus asked me to take over Nick's seat after I came back from our honeymoon. He thought that I would be a good board member, since I have actual experience of teaching." Priscilla beamed, and went on to talk about how flattered she'd been that Rufus had asked her, adding that Nick was delighted to have her replace him.

Sarah worked hard to keep a smooth expression on her face, as her sister-in-law said kind words about Rufus Morton. The man in question reminded Sarah of a biblical patriarch who was ready to call down the Lord's wrath at any minute. He had been coolly cordial to Sarah and her mother, and she'd noticed that his sons had kept their distance from her. At the time she'd put it down to Rufus' personality and religious beliefs, but later, when she saw how warmly the man welcomed Priscilla, the lay of the land was clear.

Priscilla proceeded to talk about the teacher they'd hired, and improvements in the curriculum for the school. Sarah hadn't realized how involved her sister-in-law was in the school board. She knew already that Priscilla belonged to the altar guild; Sarah's mother had informed her of that fact, adding that Sarah should really join the organization.

"Of course I was busy during August with the grape harvest, and the gypsies who pick the grapes." Priscilla stated, causing Sarah to look at her with curiosity at her statement. Gypsies! She wasn't much interested in ranching, but this side of the business intrigued her.

"What is it like to work in the orchards and vineyards?" Sarah asked.

"Nick needed help in the blending house, at the vineyard, to keep records of what grapes were harvested, as well as the plantings for next year. The gypsies are the workers who come to pick the grapes, and they are incredible people." Priscilla answered, and went on to talk about the music, food, and entertainment they brought with them. "Pilar is an old friend of Nick's; he actually escorted her to her wedding, after their wagon had been attacked by some men from town. Her husband is head of the tribe and they are the hardest workers you could ever find".

"They are very family orientated, so I set up a school for the children, while their parents were picking the grapes." Priscilla explained, going on. "The children aren't welcome in towns, because of prejudices against their background. It worked out well because the children enjoyed being together, and their parents knew they were well taken care of."

Sarah listened to Priscilla, noting the smile on the other woman's face. She found herself envying Priscilla, both the sense of purpose she had, and how involved she was with the Barkley enterprises. At the back of her mind she wondered about this Pilar woman, and Nick's involvement with her. Priscilla acted like it was no matter, but Sarah knew that if Heath had _escorted_ an unmarried woman on a trip she would want to know all about the event.

"Do you do other things like this at the ranch? Are you sorry you aren't teaching anymore? " Sarah asked the question, to change the subject, since she knew her curiosity about this Pilar would not be answered. She was also interested in how Priscilla spent her days, as well as what happened on the ranch. Heath kept that part of his compartmentalized that, but she could admit that it might be because she was never at their house. That was a whole story in itself, but she forced herself to listen to what Priscilla said.

"I miss the time with the kids, but don't miss all the paperwork and grading." Priscilla shook her head as she smiled. "As far as the ranch, most of what I do is help Victoria either with the household management, or making sure the tenants and the ranch hands families – if they are living on the ranch – are doing all right." The reply sounded like rather tedious work to Sarah, but she had to admit that least Priscilla at her house always had people around her; very different than what Sarah would had.

Priscilla continued "Teaching, well no there is no way, being married to Nick that I could. He likes me around the house, so he can see me." Priscilla's face lit up as she talked about Nick. Sarah had no trouble understanding that Nick would expect his wife to be waiting for him. _Just as Heath would_ ; the small voice inside her head stated, but she pushed it away.

"Priscilla, I have a question, about the trust; I hope you won't mind me asking?" She saw an opportunity to change the subject, and maybe get a burning question answered. Since her sister-in-law was in a chatty mood Sarah wanted to take advantage of it. Priscilla indicated for her to go on, so Sarah sat down next to her.

"Why isn't Nick involved in the trust? I understand Jarrod, because he is a lawyer, but why did you ask Heath and not Nick?" Ever since Heath had told her about the trust, Sarah had been puzzled that Nick was hands off with the whole endeavor. That was very atypical behavior for her brother-in-law who liked to have a finger in every pie.

"Because of his mining background Heath was well-equipped to deal with the mining issues, and you know how important mining reform is to him." Priscilla explained, tilting her head to look directly at Sarah. Her eyebrows puckered, and Sarah noted the deep breath the other woman took. "I know you are aware of the publicity around my sister's passing. Nick wanted nothing to do with anything belonging to Hester."

Sarah was tempted to reply with an unladylike snort of _are you kidding!_ Even in San Francisco, where Sarah had been at the time, the papers covered it extensively. The publicity had made her want to change her name, and she had to admit that Priscilla was more gracious than what Sarah would have managed.

"Yes, I understand that." Sarah replied with an understanding smile, and waited for her sister-in-law to go on with the explanation.

"Nick just wanted to put Hester behind him, and would have let me throw the money into the ocean." Priscilla sighed, and Sarah could see that the situation had bothered her greatly. Before she could inquire thought, the fair haired woman sat up straight. "The trust was the perfect way to do good with the money, and honor Joseph, who was a good man. I will say that Jarrod does most of the work; he just likes me to review the correspondence from Roland White, the lawyer in Denver. Since I know the city, I am familiar with various suppliers and businesses."

"It must make you happy that you found a solution." Sarah offered, realizing that Priscilla had not had an ulterior motive in getting Heath involved. "I forgot that you'd spent time in Denver; can you tell me about the city?" She was curious about what her sister-in-law's view of the city was, because the people Priscilla had met with Hester would probably the same ones she would be meeting.

Soo Lin brought tea in, and Sarah listened to Priscilla chatter about parties, and lunches; she paid close attention to the names her sister-in-law mentioned. Heath had mentioned some of those same names, when she'd asked him about the documents he was studying.

"Hester presented me at the Governor's Ball, which was quite the event." Priscilla went on to describe an occasion that sounded lavish and extravagant, even down to the food. "The current Governor, Frederick Pitkin, is an attorney with ties to the mining industry. We will be dining with him and his wife." She went on to outline the details of the evening, before adding that he'd been a partner in one of Hester's late husband's partnerships.

"It all sounds so grand. I am sure you were very popular." Sarah could see Priscilla with her pink and white prettiness and kind heart – not to mention wealthy relations – as being a very sought after dancing partner. She had never had the chance to be presented to society, because of her father's scandal. Sarah had thought she'd done a good job of not dwelling on what her life could have been, but talking to Priscilla was a painful reminder.

"Well it was lots of fun, but I didn't meet anyone who caught my eye. Denver society is very superficial and materialistic, just so you know. It is all about how much money your family has, and how fast you are spending it." Priscilla offered, and Sarah reminded herself that the woman had been raised by a minister – even if that man had been related to a great English duke.

"I rather think that is how most society is Priscilla; we saw that in Sacramento." Sarah recalled the occasion of the Governor's Ball, where she and Priscilla had received lots of attention, because of their husbands. The occasion had been ghastly for her, but Sarah had seen how Priscilla handled it so easily, dazzling in a brilliant green gown and diamonds, including the earrings from her wedding and a cascading necklace that Sarah had never seen before. It had to have set Nick back a pretty penny, in her estimation.

"Sacramento was all about the state fair, and the importance of agriculture to the state's economy. The Barkley's are a big part of that, so of course we got attention." Priscilla dismissed the whole event as if it was not important at all. It made Sarah wonder if she was overthinking the whole event.

"So we only get attention because of our husbands? What about our achievements and talents?" Sarah snapped before she could stop herself. One of the things that annoyed her was how people assumed how lucky she was to be married to a Barkley; as if that was the ultimate achievement. Her mother was good at reminding her that she should content herself with her role as Heath's wife.

"I always like to think of the English play "She Stoops to Conquer"; a woman can do so much behind the scenes." Priscilla chuckled and Sarah found herself wishing she had Priscilla's easy going outlook on life. Of course Priscilla was happy with her life, such as it was. That waspish thought made Sarah ask the question she was curious about.

"How do you deal with Nick's past? Not just your sister, but also all those other women, bar fights, and being in jail." Sarah knew she was probably venturing into territory that was supposed to be off-limits. On the other hand she wanted to know how Priscilla coped, to maybe find some way to deal with Heath. At the end of the day there was no one else she could talk with about the situation.

"Nick didn't marry any of them, he married me." Priscilla's voice was steady and sure. "Before we even started going out Nick told me all about his past; to quote him _I drank, gambled, and caroused my way up and down the west coast._ So I've never had any illusions about him, which makes it easy. I know who he is, and what he is; I accept him totally."

"He told you everything?" Sarah knew she was being nosy, but was having a hard time fathoming how Priscilla had taken it all in.

"Well not all the details, but I didn't need them." Priscilla reached over and put her hand on Sarah's arm. "The thing about Nick – and Heath too – is that what is really important to them is their land. The rest of it, and the trappings that go with it, are just the frame of their lives. They are happiest when they are working on the ranch. That is why they married us, because we love them as just good honorable men, for their hearts and not their bank accounts."

Sarah heard was Priscilla was trying to convey, about not letting outsiders and gossip to wheedle into a marriage. Part of Sarah was flattered that Priscilla saw her in that good, loving light, even as her heart contracted with pain. She wondered, not for the first time, if she loved Heath as he loved her.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: The original Union Station in Denver actually opened in 1881, with the purpose to unite the four railways that served Denver. The main part of the structure burnt down in 1894, and when it was rebuilt it featured a clock tower that faced four different directions, to symbolize the four railroad companies. The structure was redesigned again in 1896 and 1914, and just recently was refurbished with a hotel, shops, and upscale bars and restaurants. This story is taking place in 1879, but Union Station has always been a focal point of Denver, so I have included it in my story.**_

 _ **Chapter 5**_

Heath was enjoying a hearty breakfast with Nick, as Soo poured another cup of coffee for him. They'd been on the train for almost a week; a rock slide in one of the mountain canyons had added a day to the trip. He had not really cared, because the trip had given him and Nick the chance to spend time together, away from the ranch. The interval had given the men the chance to compare notes about the round up, and draw up plans for the next year.

There had also been the bonus for Heath, of having Sarah close by and around all the time. Heath loved her so much, and had wished more than once that they both weren't the same type of people. Sarah had the same burning drive to succeed that he did, and he had enough self-knowledge to understand that they both wanted to atone for their fathers.

He knew his schedule hadn't been easy, but Sarah had been pre-occupied too, and not just with the business. Not quite a month after they'd returned from their honeymoon, her mother had fallen ill. Heath had understood that Sarah needed to go nurse her mother, and stay with her in town. What he'd not counted on was the older woman's ongoing need to have Sarah in town several days a week. Heath would his mother-in-law see at church, Sunday dinner, and at social engagements; to his mind she looked perfectly healthy.

Sarah had explained that her mother was just putting up a good front, and still struggled with weakness. Heath accepted what Sarah said, partly because of his background he valued women, and in some ways it made it easier for him. With Nick's wedding, honeymoon, and travel, Heath was stretched thin running the ranch. Privately he admitted to himself that he didn't like Sarah making the trips to San Francisco by herself, but he wasn't in a position to accompany her. Heath also understood why Sarah was going to the city, to buy fabric for the dressmaking shop.

Now though, fall having arrived, the work on the ranch would settle down, with the round-up being finished. The trip to Denver was a perfect time for him to reconnect with Sarah. When they arrived back in Stockton they would be able to spend time in their own house. He was also looking forward to hosting the family for Sunday dinner, wanting it to turn into at least a once a month occurrence.

"Good morning everyone." Sarah came into the main room, and both men stood up, in spite of Nick having a mouthful of eggs, Heath noticed. Heath greeted his wife with a kiss to her cheek, and held out the chair next to him. He beamed as he noticed how pretty she looked, done up for their arrival in Denver. Her travel dress was brown and green woven cloth, ornamented with amber colored velvet that picked up the gold flecks in Sarah's eyes. It was bustled back with more velvet ribbon, and the hat on Sarah's head had pheasant feathers held in place by an arrangement of green silk leaves.

"Well now I think I might need to go get a little more gussied up, darling, if I am to be seen in public with you." Heath drawled, suddenly not minding having to put on one of his good suits for the final stop of their trip.

"Nonsense Heath, you look very handsome." Sarah smiled at him, before she turned to look at Nick, "You also look very well turned out." She commented to her brother-in-law and Heath saw Nick smile, as he finished his eggs.

"I should since Priscilla laid my suit out the night before, as well as my shirt and tie. At least she lets me choose my own footwear." Nick's voice boomed around the room, as he stomped his foot clad in a dark colored leather boot with some fancy animal skin on the calf. Heath heard the comment, and wasn't surprised that Priscilla was overseeing his brother's wardrobe. Nick was in love and besotted with his wife, who clearly adored him. His brother never did anything by half, so Heath knew that Nick would agree to do anything to keep Priscilla happy.

"There is nothing wrong with a wife looking out for her husband." Heath exchanged a wink with Sarah, before he went on. "Especially you Nick, who as I recall wore the same suit for five years in a row; or rather the same style as it was hard to tell."

"Ha! You are one to comment brother" Nick responded with a gruff laugh, "Can we talk about that hat? I think it has seen one trail too many, not to mention that brims that turned up went out of fashion years ago." He gestured to Heath's scruffy buff colored hat, with its low crown and plain brown leather hat band.

"Well now I don't need to be changing out a perfectly good hat because of fashion Nick. There is also fact that my hat was made in California." Heath retorted, knowing that his brother custom ordered his hats from a company in Texas, who prided itself on being known as 'the cowboys' hat. "Of course my hat looked much better before a bridge collapsed under me!" He added just to pull Nick's chain.

"That was over four years ago Heath" Nick shook his head in disbelief, before he turned to Sarah "If you don't give him a new hat for Christmas I will." He winked at Sarah who laughed in agreement at the statement.

Heath pulled out a chair for Sarah to sit down, as Soo brought a plate of breakfast over to her. In truth he was glad to get off the subject of his hat, as it was important to him in ways he had not shared. Soo brought a plate over to Sarah. They spent the next couple of minutes chatting and eating, until a rustling was heard, as Priscilla came into the room.

Heath noted her clothes, thinking the dark bluish grey fabric, with pinkish lavender details, and grey facings and cording reminded him of the sunset. The outfit was lavish, and rather over the top, especially since Priscilla was wearing some sparkly pink stone earrings and a large broach with the same stones at her neck. He was used to that kind of jewelry only being worn in the evening, but Heath noted that Nick was full of praise and approval for her appearance.

Even as he and Nick stood up he heard Sarah enthuse about the outfit, which he picked up was actually from London. Heath though was paying more attention to how Priscilla looked, having started to suspect several days ago that she might be in the family way. She was sleeping a great deal, and when she did eat it was all rather bland food.

Nick too had been very doting on her; Heath was used to how affectionate the couple was. In some ways he wished Sarah was more open to his touches in public, but he understood her reticence and the cause behind it. There was also the matter of Soo Lin who constantly made up a special tea for her with ginger. Heath knew enough about Chinese medicine to understand what ginger was prescribed for.

If Priscilla was in the family way he would be very happy for his brother, as he'd been for his sister last month. Heath was aware of the talk around town, and how upsetting it was to Sarah. His mother had made it a point to share her story with both Heath and Sarah, to reassure them. Heath could admit that he enjoyed having Sarah all to himself – when he could get her to himself – and didn't necessarily feel in a hurry for a baby.

"I am more than ready to be in Denver, after a week on the train." Priscilla announced, after greeting Nick with a passionate kiss, before he held out the chair for her to sit down. "I know I sound soft; Granny Elspeth has told me of her voyages, with several months on a ship. We are very spoiled to be able to travel so fast." She laughed, as she acknowledged Soo putting a plate in front of her. Heath noted that it was scrambled eggs, and a plain piece of toast. The oriental man also set a cup of hot tea, and the honey dispenser.

"Well I know when my parents came west, it was a long and hard journey; now it is nothing at all to go from the east to west and back again." Nick offered, and they all laughed. It was a merry group that ate breakfast, as they talked about what it must have been like to trek westward into the unknown country. Sarah, having been born and raised in St. Louis had seen the westward expansion from almost her back yard, and had funny stories to tell about life along the Mississippi River that was the gateway to the west.

"So what is the drill for our arrival in Denver?" Heath asked, not being sure what was on the agenda. He knew the broad outlines of the visit, including several meetings with mine owners, and a semi-private dinner with the governor. He had spent the last week studying the notes from Jarrod, about the trust and the other mine owners. They were all powerful men, with wealth many times over; wealth he knew they'd fought hard for and wouldn't easily part with.

"Roland White is greeting us at the station, and then we are going to the Queen City Hotel." Priscilla went on to describe the hotel and its location; Heath had studied in detailed map of the city, and knew right away the hotel was in the best area of town. As an ex-lawman, he had made it a point to note the less desirable areas of town; specifically Holladay Street and the Tenderloin district. "The rest of the day we are on our own, but the next morning you and Nick will have some free time." She went on describe the typical societal events that men and women engaged in. Heath looked with a concerned glance over at Sarah, but she seemed to very agreeable with the agenda.

"I certainly hope we don't have too much of Roland White; pompous ass." Nick growled, reaching for a third serving of eggs and bacon. Priscilla looked at him with a reproving glance, but Nick was having none of it. Used to Nick, Heath resigned himself to finishing his eggs along with one of Nick's tirades.

"He can't be all that bad, can he?" Sarah asked.

"He was all against Priscilla setting up the trust, and even tried to get me to tell her not to do it! As if I would ever do anything like that!" Nick's voice boomed around the room, and Heath watched as Priscilla reached over to kiss and hug her husband. Heath had already noticed that theirs was clearly a deep and passionate union, apparent to all and sundry; at the back of his mind Heath wondered why he kept on noticing the couple's interactions.

"Your voice is not as loud as it was when you shouted down the lawyer." Heath observed, thinking back to the meeting. Roland White had been very standoffish towards him, until the lawyer realized that Heath knew a great deal about mining. He was smart enough to know that he would need the lawyer's help to get his plans into action; but Heath wasn't concerned. Roland White wouldn't be his first choice as a dinner companion, but he'd eaten with much more distasteful people in his life. His thoughts were interrupted by Priscilla's voice; what she said surprised him and Sarah, but for different reasons.

"I know we have a great deal scheduled before we go to Georgetown, but I want to get Hester's house done. Then we will be able to get rid of the security guards, and the threatening incidents." She said, the sun reflecting through the ribbon of honey she poured into her tea.

"Why are there guards on Hester's house?" Heath questioned, even as he felt Sarah tense up next to him.

"You didn't say anything about going to Washington, D.C. I can't be gone from the business for that long." Sarah's voice was taut, with an easy to hear note of anger. Heath sighed, because everything had been so nice, but if she was spun up the rest of the day – and maybe tomorrow – would be spent soothing her hurt feelings.

"Washington D.C.?" Priscilla looked at her with a puzzled look, while Heath noted how Nick's eyes were narrowing as he regarded Sarah. The tension was broken when Priscilla laughed, and smiled at Sarah. "The Georgetown we are going to is about fifty miles west of Denver, up in the mountains." She went on to explain that it was the mining capital of the state, with the nickname 'Silver Queen of Colorado'. Priscilla added that the trip was part of their ten day itinerary.

Heath could tell that Priscilla's words had calmed Sarah, but he had noticed how Priscilla had, before she spoke to Sarah, reached over to put her hand on Nick's. It had been apparent to Heath that Nick had been bothered by Sarah's reaction to the longer trip, and he wondered why. Figuring he could pursue that line of questioning later, he recalled Priscilla's other statement.

"Why are there guards on your sister's house?" Heath couldn't bring himself to speak Hester's name, even as she'd given him an opportunity to fulfill one of his long held desires. He still struggled with how it had all come about, and one part of him wished he could have talked to Sarah about the whole affair.

However, she'd already shown no patience or understanding with his past, and he certainly didn't want to arouse her ire again, as it had been after her talk with Hester. There had been one woman he'd always been able to talk to about everything but; _well life gets in the way_ he scolded himself.

"Once we finished with most of Hester's estate, we left a caretaker at the house. It has been sold, but I wanted the opportunity to go through it before the new owners take possession." Priscilla went on to explain how the house was broken into with the caretaker being badly injured. At that point Jarrod had assigned a local security firm, with connections to the Pinkerton's to watch the house.

"Sissi, the sooner the better, as far as I am concerned! Deal with the house, get what you want out of it and then let the new owners take possession." Nick growled, clearly not happy with the specter of Hester coming to the table. Priscilla reassured Nick that it would be quick, and she wanted to be done with Hester as badly as he did. Heath found it interesting to watch the interaction between the couple; it was clear Priscilla was aware of what Nick and Hester's relationship had been. Before Heath could ponder that, the train whistle and movement made him aware that they were approaching Union Station, in Denver.

Pulling into Denver was quite the grand experience, with the railroad terminal having been just recently completed. Four different tunnels, from each direction, all converged into a center point, where passengers would depart and board. The Barkley private railcar was attached to the _Eastern_ _Suncatcher_ , which was the Central Pacific's express service to Chicago. Because of its status the train was given right of way as they entered Denver's station.

The couples knew that they had over half an hour, before the train pulled out again, wanting to meet its next stop in Chicago. Soo Lin was very experienced, having traveled with Jarrod several times a year, when he went to the East Coast. The oriental man knew all the Pullman porters, and of course the Barkley's private car was recognized by railway officials.

When they disembarked from the car, Heath was careful to let Priscilla – and therefore Nick – go first. He picked up that Sarah was annoyed about his actions, but wasn't sure why; Priscilla was Hester's heiress, and also the one who'd set up the trust. Heath's understanding that he was there to oversee the mines, and bring them up to modern safety standards. Priscilla had, in a conversation on the train, told him that she trusted him to do with right thing with Joseph's legacy.

Roland White was there to greet them, with two covered carriages and four porters at their disposal. He had small floral bouquets for both Priscilla and Sarah, which he presented with proper ceremony. Heath had to give the sophisticated lawyer - the fine tailored clothes, the walking stick with its gold knobbed handle, and the well-polished top hat oozed wealth and position – credit for the effort with the welcome even if it seemed over the top.

Heath was preoccupied with how Sarah was going to deal with the whole welcoming ceremony, so later he would state that he wasn't paying attention to the surroundings. It relieved him to see Sarah being very affable to Roland White's overtures, as she took the flowers. The lawyer was very attentive to the ladies, while Heath felt like he and Nick were the odd men out; he wasn't sure why he had that thought.

Before he could respond Heath found himself fenced in between the train and the luggage cart, separated from the rest of the party. Heath felt a sense of being boxed in and trapped; not sure why because it was just the train station. The luggage cart passed and Heath seized his opportunity to rejoin the family party.

Just as he went to move forward to join his wife two things happened; another luggage cart started to move in front of him. At the same time a crowd of people disembarking from a west bound train on the opposite platform all surged onto the main platform. Heath wasn't sure what occurred first, or in what order, but he found himself being pushed – he would swear that he felt hands against his side – on to the adjoining set of tracks.

Due to the elevation of the different tracks, the platform that Heath was on was raised very high; almost six feet above the grade. He found himself falling backwards to the offset railroad tracks, as a freight train was coming into the station. The train wouldn't be stopping, rather going on to the rail depot at the stockyards, at the eastern side of town.

Even as he felt himself falling, he saw the iron handrails set into the raised concrete platform. They were there for the railroad workers to get down to the yard, to service the trains. Heath made a superhuman effort, as he reached out to grasp the handrails. With barely a hair's breadth he clasped the cold metal, and then pulled himself tight against the stone, as the freight train hurled past.

Just as suddenly as it had happened it was all over, and Heath climbed up to see Nick, Priscilla, Sarah and Roland White all looking at him with horror in their eyes. Several railroad officials had come rushing over, and the waiting passengers were all looking at the scene with interest.

"Heath are you all right?" Sarah came rushing over to him and put her arms around him, and he felt her trembling. Not caring about the people around them Heath returned the embraced and murmured in her ear that he was all right. He took advantage of their closeness to softly kiss her skin, and was rewarded by her moving close to him.

"What happened there Heath?" Roland White's cultured voice broke into the moment, and Heath felt Sarah pull away and stand up straight. Heath was tempted to reply with _someone pushed me off the platform_ but he held his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene about something that could have just been an unfortunate string of events.

"A luggage cart caught my foot at the same time the passengers for the other train were boarding." Heath brushed off the incident, but noticed how closely Nick was regarding him.

"Are you sure?" Nick bristled, and Heath could see that his brother was all set to say more about the incident.

"Really, it was an odd accident." He stated, even as his eyes had narrowed and were darting around the milling crowd. Heath felt the tension in his body, reminiscent of when he was a lawman with a target on his back. The last thing he wanted though was to make a scene now, even though he knew with certainty he'd been pushed. Later he would talk to Nick in private about what had really happened.

"Honestly why this kind of thing doesn't happen more often, I can only wonder!" Roland declared, going to talk about how the station was badly designed. His main complaint was that first-class passengers should be given their own area to board and disembark the trains. Heath had noticed how the lawyer carefully kept himself slightly removed from the crowds around them, sniffing disdainfully.

Heath wasn't surprised at how Roland sorted out the carriages so he was with the ladies, while Nick and Heath were with Roland's clerk. In truth Heath was glad not to have to ride with Roland, but he wasn't sure he liked Sarah – well Sarah and Priscilla- alone with the lawyer. He looked over to see what Nick thought of it, but Nick was busy talking to the lawyer's clerk, dressed in similar garb to his boss, who'd come along to manage the logistical details. Heath sighed, and settled into the overly padded seat, glad that the hotel was not that far of a distance.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: Sarah Bernhardt didn't actually tour Canada and America until 1880, a year after this story. The Forrester Opera House was completed in 1873, located on the corner of 15**_ _ **th**_ _ ** & Curtis Streets. It was where the Governor's Guard – a military organization charged with protecting the Governor to drill – as well as a place for lectures, plays and concerts. It was leased by Nate Forrester in 1877, when it was renamed. It was the premier opera house in Denver, until the Tabor Grand Opera House opened in 1881. I was very surprised to learn how many amazing musical and theater venues Colorado had in the 19**_ _ **th**_ _ **century. For more information please visit: .**_

 _ **Chapter Six**_

Nick Barkley regarded the crowd surging in the foyer of the Forrester Opera House, and had to stifle the need to stomp his foot. It was too close of quarters and hot for his liking, even as the crowd was the crème de la crème of Denver society. They had arrived in Denver earlier that day, when Nick had seen his brother almost meet his maker at the train station.

It had not been until later in the afternoon that Nick had been able to discuss the incident with Heath. He put full faith in Heath's observation that he'd been pushed onto the train tracks; the big question was why. His younger brother had been a strident lawman in his day, and put many a felon behind bars. Heath had observed that the attack was almost too planned to be an accident.

Heath had touched on the information about the break-in at Hester's house, which Priscilla had shared as they were arriving in Denver. All together it had put Nick on the alert, even as he was dealing with Roland White being over solicitous and Priscilla not feeling up to par because of her condition.

Nick was particularly annoyed that Roland White had maneuvered it so Priscilla and Sarah were with him in the first carriage. Heath and Nick had been left with Roland's clerk who talked liked he'd swallowed a Baedeker guide to the city. He seemed to know intimate details on every notable person and structure in the city and wasn't reticent in sharing them incessantly with his two captive fellow passengers. When they arrived at the Queen City Hotel the party was shown to the top floor, which was a grand, almost an apartment like home.

Two bedroom suites, each with their own water closets, a formal parlor, dining area, and the main bedroom having a balcony that over looked the city were at their disposal. The rooms were decorated in the latest style of brocade, velvet, and finely carved furniture. Nick had noted the well-stocked bar cabinet, while Priscilla had oohed and awed over the bedroom with the lavish canopy bed, and the balcony.

At home he and Priscilla enjoyed late evenings sitting out on the balcony from their bedroom. It was sometimes their one private moment for day. The best times were when Nick made it home in time to have tea with wife, his mother, and whatever guest was around. Afterwards he and Sissi would go upstairs, where she would help him bathe and change his clothes; sometimes they'd barely made it down in time for dinner.

Unfortunately though, on more nights than naught Nick would barely make it back to the house in time to clean up and get to dinner. Late July and August were the busiest times on the ranch, and the ones that occupied him totally. In retrospect Nick privately admitted that it was throwing Priscilla into the fire, but she took it in stride with a good grace.

It was on those late nights when the couple would sit out on the balcony, savoring the fresh air and catching up on the day's events. He appreciated how Sissi understood his work schedule, and in truth she was the one person he could be totally honest with, about running the ranch.

Nick had watched with admiration as Priscilla worked with his mother on not only household matters, but the tenant families. When she stepped in to take over the record keeping for the blending house inventory it had taken a weight off of his mind. If the inventory wasn't accurate it could throw the whole production schedule off, but Priscilla had been detailed and precise in her figures.

When Pilar, her husband Corso, and the gypsy tribe had shown up to pick the grapes Nick had greeted them happily. He knew that his acceptance of the Romany was not the norm, but his time escorting Pilar had taught him a lot. It pleased him when Priscilla was equally welcoming, and reached out to Pilar about classes for the children. It wasn't lost on him that the gypsies, knowing their children were well looked after, worked with happy hearts.

It was Priscilla who made it all possible, and in Nick's mind she had shown her love and loyalty for him and his land. Therefore it was easy to share his private concerns and worries with her – he knew it would go no further and she would stand beside him no matter what. He also appreciated that she understood he liked to play cards and drink in town a couple of times a month including the Cattlemen's Association meetings.

He brought his mind back to the present and now thoroughly approved of the hotel arrangements, sharing a smile with Priscilla. Roland White showed them around the room, as he pointed out baskets of fruit, wine, liquor, and sweets that had been sent by prominent Denver families.

Just as Nick was wishing the lawyer would leave he sprung a surprise on the group, regarding the evening's entertainment. Tonight was the last performance of the great French actress Sarah Bernhardt, before she left for the east coast, and then Europe. Nick recalled how Sissi had been disappointed to miss her when she was in San Francisco, since they would be in southern California while she was performing.

The end result was that the Barkley's found themselves at the Opera House, which was arranged and draped in red velvet for the play. Normally it was where the security police who protected the Governor practiced their drills, albeit using blanks so as not to mar the walls. The great actress had been in fine form, and even Nick was awed by Sarah Bernhardt's performance. Priscilla had whispered to him that her Cousin Bea had told her that Sarah had been engaged in an _affaire de Coeur_ with the Prince of Wales, before she'd been bought off.

Nick, looking at the statuesque and stunning actress, admired the Prince of Wales' taste. He said as much to Sissi, but then added she was rather obvious and maybe both persons were enjoying the publicity of the supposed affair. Even in California they'd heard about the Prince and his draconian mother who had made widowhood a full-time job. Priscilla had giggled with delight at his observation, complimenting him on his insight.

That had been had intermission, but it was the end of the evening and Nick looked with concern at his wife. She was dazzling in pinkish silk and diamonds; he'd been so proud to escort her into the opera house. Now though, looking closely at her, he could see the fatigue in her large blue eyes, which belied the smile she had on her face as she chatted to several people.

Luckily for Nick's patience the line moved quickly, and the party retrieved their coats. He and Heath had wool top coats, while Priscilla and Sarah had cloaks. Nick carefully draped Priscilla's black velvet floor length cloak, lined with sable; the same fur making up the collar and the framing the hood. He had bought it for her in San Francisco, on the return trip from the State Fair.

When they had arrived in the morning the city had been pleasantly cool and sunny; however by sunset the temperature had dropped almost twenty degrees. They had all brought outer wear with them, so the Barkley party was prepared for the change in weather. Nick noted Heath and Sarah collecting their jackets; his brother helped Sarah into her waist-length cape of dark blue velvet. However, Heath folded his topcoat and put it over his arm.

Priscilla had noticed the same action, and shot Nick a warning look, which he understood all too well. Earlier in the evening, when they were leaving Sarah had brought out the topcoat that Heath had forgotten. Nick soon understood why Heath had forgotten the garment; the black wool was smooth and fine, but what stood out was the oversize collar of Persian lamb that adorned the coat.

Nick later told Priscilla, in self-defense, that his response was just brothers teasing each other which she understood. His wife, during the intermission of the play when they had a few moments alone, had pointed out that Sarah had not taken the jests kindly. In reality all Nick had done was comment on what a finely adorned coat Heath had. Sarah had tightened her narrow lips as she offered that it had been a gift for Heath from her.

It was with that memory in mind that Nick turned away from Heath and Sarah, to put his hands on Priscilla's shoulders. That gave him the opportunity to pull her close against him, and he felt her body respond with both love and tiredness. Clearly Sissi needed to be lying down, not dealing with Denver society and her oh so touchy sister-in-law.

Sarah felt her lips curl, as Heath took his topcoat, but folded it over his arm, in spite of the cold weather outside. She had gifted him the coat back in September, for his birthday. Heath was hard to buy gifts for; his tastes were simple and what he did like he was very particular about. Sarah had seen, in going through his closet, that he didn't have a proper topcoat. In a way it made sense since it never was that cold in Stockton, but Heath did spend time in San Francisco.

It was Mark Twain who said the coldest winter he ever spent was summer in San Francisco, which Sarah fully concurred with. She had no idea what he'd worn before, but Sarah wanted him to have a proper outercoat. Her father had always been well dressed, and she took that knowledge of men's haberdashery as she bought for Heath

The coat she gave to Heath was fine wool, with a thick gleaming collar of Persian wool; just what successful men in St. Louis and the east wore. It was top notch and had cost her a great deal of her own money. When she'd given it to Heath he'd been appreciative enough, but he'd put it away in the back of the armoire. Sarah had noticed when she was packing for their trip to Denver, that Heath had left it behind. Assuming it was an oversight on his part, she'd packed it with the other luggage.

This evening, when they were getting ready to go, Sarah had noticed Nick helping Priscilla on with her evening cape; a luscious confection of silk velvet and glossy sable which set off her dark blonde hair. Nick was wearing a black wool top coat; fine material but plain with no elaborate collar. Heath helped her into her waist length dark blue cape, and then with an almost palatable reluctance put his coat on.

Sarah had sighed, it being one more annoyance about the evening. The day had started off fine; they'd been on the train coming into Denver, having a nice breakfast. She had been a little miffed at how Heath was always so willing to defer to any decisive male around; usually his brother but in this case Roland White. The lawyer had been a surprise to Sarah, after Nick and Heath's comments about the man. In person he was well-dressed and charming, gifting both her and Priscilla with delightful small nosegays.

She had suddenly become aware that Heath wasn't with the party, and looked around the crowded platform for where he could be. He was very good at going off on his own, separating himself from the group; at first she'd just assumed he'd done it again. Just as she was feeling self-pity for being left on her own, it had horrified her when the baggage cart procession had parted, just in time for Sarah to see Heath fall back, onto the track of the inbound freight train.

How Heath had pulled himself away was something she would never understand, but she had screamed with fear. Quickly dropping the flowers she had rushed over to the edge of the platform, where several porters were helping Heath up. Sarah had wrapped her arms around Heath, pulling him close, not caring about the crowd around them. She had liked how Heath had clasped her hard, and just as she started to melt against him, the noise of the train station and Roland White's voice brought her up hard.

The next several minutes were spent with Nick and Priscilla looking horrified, Heath standing there with a stiff expression on his face, while Roland White asserted himself. He managed to get every railway official and the colored porters all quivering and looking at him with deferential glances while he castigated the station personal. Even as Sarah was scared beyond words for Heath, she noticed how Roland White brought everyone to heel.

The carriage ride to the hotel had passed in blur, as Heath had let her be led into the carriage with Roland and Priscilla. Sarah would have preferred to be with Heath, but assumed he wanted to talk to his brother about the incident; not like he'd talk to her about it! The hotel had been top notch, but she'd pettily noted how Nick and Priscilla had taken the better room with the balcony.

By now Sarah was ready to be done with travel, the trip, and all the intrigue and drama that seemed to be going on. Her hope was that maybe she and Heath could have a quiet private dinner by themselves. Sarah's plan was dashed when Roland White invited them to the grand performance at the Opera House.

Even she'd heard of Sarah Bernhardt, and knew that there was no way she and Heath could excuse themselves from the evening. She'd spent the rest of the day in their room, unpacking; not leaving it to the maid, who would undoubtedly want to be tipped. Heath, along with Nick had gone out sightseeing, while Priscilla had rested for the afternoon. When it was time to go out Sarah had put on a dark green silk dress, her wedding pearls around her neck. By now she was used to being with Priscilla, and knew how the woman dressed for every occasion.

When she came into the sitting room her sister-in-law was dazzling in coral colored silk, sprigged in a slightly darker coral shade. The gown was ornamented with white lace and black velvet ribbons; the same black velvet ribbon adorned the diamond choker around Priscilla's neck. Sarah recognized it as part of the wedding gift from Elspeth's eldest nephew and family; in addition to the choker there were diamond earrings, bracelets, a brooch, and several hair pins.

It had surprised Sarah at how all of Priscilla's English relations gifted jewelry, which she later learned was common in Europe. Sarah was not a big wearer of jewelry, preferring the money it would have cost in the bank or stashed in her drawer. Further, she would not have wanted someone else picking out her accessories, feeling as if she was being told what to wear. Now, instead of a quiet evening with her husband she was forced to follow in her sister-in-law's shadow; or as she referred to it _The Coming of Saint Priscilla the Perfect_.

She had noticed how Heath didn't have his coat, and went back to their bedroom to retrieve it. Sarah had been proud to see Heath put the lavish garment on, but when Nick had delivered his comment, a rakish grin on his face as his eyes twinkled, about the lavishness of the garment it had destroyed the moment. Priscilla had been quick to compliment Heath on how distinguished the coat looked, which Sarah appreciated; slightly. _Saint Priscilla the Perfect had come through once again_ she thought to herself.

Now at least the evening was over with; yes the great French actress had done a fine performance and Sarah could admit that she was fortunate to see the woman perform. However, she really struggled with social events – since any of them could lead to questions about her father – so she was eager to get out of the Opera House and back to the hotel. The Barkley party exited the crowded vestibule, and then saw the line of carriages and paid hacks waiting in front of the venue.

"It is going to take a while to get our carriage; I want a cigar." Nick declared, and Sarah saw Heath nodding in agreement. They moved down the street slightly, to a sheltered doorway, which allowed for a line of sight on the line of carriages. They were half a block down towards Champa Street; Sarah knew enough about Denver to know that the streets were laid out on a diagonal. Being a city girl herself Sarah had no problem recognizing the demarcation between the good and bad areas.

"Thanks for the light." Heath replied, after he'd taken one of Nick's cigars and lit it with a shared match. Sarah wished the line for the carriages wasn't so long, as she wasn't enjoying standing on the street. The chilly air pinched her face, while her hands were cold in the evening gloves she was wearing. The brothers exchanged comments about the performance, and Priscilla shared a tidbit of gossip about the actress.

Sarah let the conversation swirl around her, and didn't join in the discussion. Instead she pondered what it would be like to dress such a well-known woman even as she took in her surroundings. Her musings on dress fabrics were interrupted by a lone figure approaching the group. Sarah froze and looked over at Nick and Heath, knowing they were armed. Suddenly the Opera House and its lights seemed far away.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

"Quarter bit please g'lmen; whatever you can spare." The voice came from a man of medium build, with light brown hair, clothed in worn, patched working man's clothes. There was the faint hint of a southern accent Heath noted, as he took in the figure approaching them. He and Nick both had their guns close by, and he sent his brother a quick look, who nodded in response.

Heath regarded the man coming close to them and was suddenly struck by familiarity, as if he had met the man before. He squinted, trying to get a better look at the beggar's face, wishing that the gas street lights were brighter.

"Pls I don't mean any harm, just looking for something to tide me over until I find work." The poorly dressed man – his clothes were thin; too thin for the cold air – managed to maintain an aura of dignity, in spite of his pleas for aid. Heath suddenly recognized the man, as he remembered that long ago time at Carterson Prison. The memory caused an almost physical pain to hit him, as his breath drew hard inward not wanting to remember that period of his life.

"Logan Dawes?" Heath moved towards the man, going slow so as not to startle him. It had been so long since their time in Texas; however the last time he'd seen Dawes, over six years ago, the man had a small homestead, along with a wife and son. It had helped to erase some of the pain of the time in Texas.

"Do I know you?" The beggar squinted, and moved closer to the gas light at the corner. "Heath? Heath Thompson? Why I haven't seen you since Elk Creek!" Just as the man had moved forward he started to back up, but Heath put his hand out to grasp his arm.

"Logan it is you! What is going on? Why are you" Heath suddenly stopped, as he regarded the beggar in front of him. The last he'd seen of Logan the man was well fed, and showing off his thriving farm. Clearly things had not gone well for his old friend. "By the way it is Heath Barkley now, something of a long story."

"Oh Heath, I'm sorry I need to leave, just forget you saw me." The man's embarrassment was apparent, as he regarded the well-dressed group who were looking at him with curiosity.

Heath vaguely registered how Sarah and Priscilla had both drawn in quick breaths, as they stiffened with fear. He also noted how Nick had dropped his cigar, as he went for his gun when Logan had approached the group. Nick clearly was ready to defend the ladies; for some reason Sarah huddling behind Nick made Heath feel like he wasn't doing his duty to her.

"Nick, its fine! This is Logan Dawes, an old friend of mine." Heath made the introductions leaving out exactly where Logan was an old friend from. It was taking all of his self-control to hold it together as the memories hit him hard.

"Well then, any friend of my brother's is a friend of mine." Nick walked over and extended his right hand for a shake. Heath felt a surge of gratitude to his brother, but noticed that both Sarah and Priscilla were standing back, letting the men take the lead. He hoped it was just their fear of being accosted on the street, and not Logan's appearance that caused their reaction.

The next several minutes were spent with Heath and Logan catching up; Heath heard about the locust invasion that had destroyed the year's crops. Just as he was struggling to recover, a cholera epidemic had swept Elk Creek, which took his wife and son. Since then Logan said he'd been moving around working in various mines as he could find work. He was in Denver until he could get the fare to go to Georgetown, where jobs were plentiful.

"Well Logan I can certainly assist you with that! I will be in Georgetown in about a week, but let me help you before then." Heath knew the man's work ethic and inwardly smiled that he could help his once benefactor secure a job. "Here, you look way too cold so take my coat – you know how I am always warm. My card is in the pocket, along with ten dollars." He went on to state that he was staying at the Queen City Hotel, and he wanted to meet Logan in the lobby, to have breakfast.

"Heath, really? That is a very fine coat!" Logan was clearly hesitant at taking it, but Heath insisted, saying he could always return it tomorrow. In truth, Logan could keep it as Heath had always thought it too ostentatious for his taste. It had surprised him that Sarah, who'd always been so low-key had gifted him such a coat; it was like what an old, rich man would wear and made him wonder how Sarah saw him?

Just then the door man outside of the opera house hailed the Barkley party for their carriage, so they said good bye to Logan. Heath clasped the man tightly to him, whispering in his ear to please come to the hotel tomorrow morning. It pained him to watch Logan walk down the dark street, and tried to console himself that at least the man had a warm coat to protect him against the cold, hard wind coming down from the Rocky Mountains.

The carriage ride back to the hotel was interesting, to say the least; Priscilla had started to ask him about Logan which was a subject he wasn't ready to discuss yet. Luckily for Heath, Nick picked up on his reluctance and changed the subject to the evening's performance. Heath noticed the look Nick gave Priscilla, as he made his comment on the play, and appreciated how quickly Priscilla was chatting about the evening.

Heath, concerned about Logan, was aware of Sarah's tenseness, as she sat next to him. She had been standoffish during the encounter with Logan, and when Heath had offered the man his greatcoat knew that she'd been upset at his action. Not for the first time he wished that Sarah was easier going, and more willing to trust him.

Of course, he admitted to himself, he had tried to leave the coat in California, and wouldn't care if he never saw it again. Heath, when she had gifted him the coat had been taken aback at the gift and its lavishness. He now chided himself, wishing he'd been upfront with her at the time, about his feelings regarding the gift. As the carriage made its way through the dark streets Heath thought that he had somehow let both Logan and Sarah down, even as he wasn't sure why.

Arriving back at their suite at the hotel Nick had offered a nightcap, but Sarah had almost snapped that she was going to bed. Heath felt the hard look she gave him, clearly expecting him to follow her. One part of him wanted to stay and have a drink, but he knew that he would only pay for it later. With an inward sigh he bid his brother and Priscilla good night and quickly followed Sarah into their room.

 _The next morning…_

Nick was awake by 6:00am the next morning, but conscious of Priscilla's sleeping form he moved carefully out of bed. Last night, after the show and Heath's encounter with his old friend – Nick wasn't sure what Logan Dawes was to his brother, but it was clear that the man was important – he'd been glad to get back to the hotel. He knew that Priscilla was tired, but had picked up that Heath was distressed while Sarah was hurt and upset about the encounter with the strange man.

In all honesty he only offered the nightcap to give Heath some breathing room, figuring that Sarah would say no and go to their bedroom. Nick was concerned about the faraway look in his brother's eyes, even as he wanted to get Priscilla into bed. Instead Heath had gone with Sarah, no doubt hoping to placate her; privately Nick wished him good luck with that. At least it left Nick to take care of Priscilla, who sagged against him once the other couple left the sitting room.

It was with pleasure that Nick helped Priscilla off with her clothes, after she'd removed her jewelry that she laid on the dressing table, the diamonds sending rainbow sparks on the walls. Nick let his hands softly stroke her body, as he removed her clothing, growling at the red marks her corset had left. He had been worried about how tightly she was laced, but was reassured when she reminded him that the stays always did that. Priscilla had teased him though that in another three months she was going to be showing and it wouldn't be safe for her to have such tight lacings.

He had wanted to roar with pleasure, at the idea of his wife great with their child, but contained himself. It took a great deal of self-control not to ravish Priscilla, as he helped her into her nightgown which was confection of white silk, inset lace and ribbon threaded trim. She looked like a petis four, and Nick in other circumstances would have been all over her.

However, she was carrying his child and needed rest; instead he used the hot plate left over from her teaching days, to make some tea. Soo had given them his special blend, along with the ginger root and file, for their use at the hotel when he wasn't there. Nick found himself very rewarded for his care when Priscilla had woken up at 5:00am, wanting to be held. One thing led to another, and he'd smiled even as tried to muffle her screams of satisfaction by letting her bury her head against his chest.

Nick was now dressed and standing in the sitting room at 6:15am wondering what to do with his morning. He was very surprised that Heath wasn't up; they both kept the same working schedule, but figured that maybe his brother was resting up after the events of last night. He used the in-house bell system to signal for first breakfast; Nick had set it up so he and Heath would have coffee and toast early in the morning. Second breakfast, later, was the full meal of eggs, meat, fruit, pastry, juice, and more coffee for them and the ladies.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings, and he opened it to admit a white coated waiter, pushing a cart. The man wheeled it into the room, showed the coffee, toast, and biscuits, along with jam, honey and butter. The Denver paper, and yesterday's Chicago paper was on the tray, Nick tipped him well, as was his habit; after the waiter he left he helped himself to a cup of coffee and settled down to read the newspapers.

When he heard the next knock on the door he looked over at the clock on the mantle and noticed that it was almost half past seven. Nick was puzzled at the sound; who would be knocking at the door and where was Heath? Folding the Chicago paper, which had more pages than the Denver one, he set it aside and walked over to answer the door.

 _An hour earlier…_

Senior Detective Jack Regan tugged the collar of his utilitarian brown wool coat tighter against his neck. It was cold, almost freezing, and he was wishing he'd pulled his scarf out when he was gathering his winter gloves. His breath made little clouds, in the biting air, even as the sky was slowly moving from pinks and reds to blue, the sun rising in the east.

Jack knew why the beat constable had called the death in. The man had been doing his duty, patrolling the open park space that separated the grand mansions from the upscale hotels and shops along East Colfax Avenue. Any dead body would have been a cause for concern, but one dressed in a fine wool coat with a lavish Persian lamb collar was even more so of a problem.

The detective noted the prone position of the body, with the seeping blood stain marking even darker the black wool. He moved closer and noted the shaggy, unkempt light brown hair, the unshaven jaw line of the face that was laying on the left cheek, as well as the ragged nails on the hands that were raised above the head.

He said some approving words to the beat constable, who was standing just slightly away from the body, with a worried look. Jack noticed that he man was young, and was probably concerned about calling out a detective at six o'clock in the morning. The constable had done the right thing though, because the dead man didn't match the coat, and after all, it was the rich side of town.

That thought had him silently chuckling, as he thought about what his father, now a high ranking police lieutenant in New York City, would comment. Jack's grandfather had come over during the potato famine, but had the good luck to be married to a daughter of a man who was already high up in the Irish Immigrant Society. By the end of the Civil War Boss Tweed ran the city through a twisted combination of charity and violence.

It was the New York police department that both gave him a career and sent him west. Jack was savvy enough to understand that graft and behind the scenes dealing was everywhere, but the west offered a slightly more level playing field. A murdered man usually exposed the rougher aspects of society; he moved closer to examine the body.

"Is the coroner here yet?" Jack looked around, knowing the protocol involved in the finding of a suspicious corpse. The coroner, dressed in a grey overcoat and carrying his medical bag stepped up next to him. They conferred for a few minutes, and then Jack watched as the coroner turned the body over. Jack saw the worn, patched cotton shirt and blue denim pants – faded with many washings – that contrasted with the richness of the coat.

It was with sadness and reverence that he reached out to the body; Jack was solidly Catholic after all. The lavish outer garment had two side pockets and an inner breast pocket, with the lining being done in a brilliant scarlet satin. Jack didn't recognize the label of the maker, but did note that the city was San Francisco. He commented to the doctor, who nodded and waved his assistant over, to take notes.

The outer pockets were empty, but the breast pocket had a ten dollar bill – from the mint in San Francisco – and a calling card. The card was on heavy cream colored vellum card stock, with black engraving. Jack held it up, trying to catch the rays of the rising sun, to read what was on the card.

"Heath Barkley, Barkley Ranch, Stockton, California." Jack stated, and rocked back on his heels. He pondered the calling card, on fine stock with engraving, the wealth implied by the coat, even as the man's clothes and appearance belied those trappings of money. Something wasn't adding up here, and he looked at the scene again.

The body was laying off one of the paths which was covered in crushed rock, not quite hidden by the bushes on either side. Clearly the shooter wanted the body found, which a clue in of itself was even if Jack didn't know why yet. His main question was why a man who was clearly from the lower rung of society, dressed in a rich man's coat, dead in a rich man's part of town.

"Dale?" Jack indicated for his partner, Dale May to come over. Dale had just arrived at the crime scene, and Jack brought up to speed. He liked working with Dale because the man was a walking reference book. Dale read anything and everything, remembering all of it; there was also the advantage that his sister was married to a bank vice-president. This gave him access to the upper echelon of Denver society.

"Yesterday, on the Eastern Suncatcher, the private railcar of the Barkley family, from California, arrived at Union Station." Dale announced, and went on to tell Jack about the family connection to Denver, adding that the family was staying at the Queen City Hotel.

"Well then I think we need to pay a welcome call on our visitors from California." Jack replied "Maybe they can tell us who this man is…and who killed him." Nothing about the body, scene, or anything else was making sense, and he was a man who didn't like loose ends.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter Eight**_

Jack Regan and his partner Dale followed the hotel's security officer up to the penthouse level. They had discretely entered through the back way, instead of the lavishly decorated lobby with its large crystal chandeliers and velvet furnishings. The security officer was in fact a retired Denver police sergeant, who knew the drill for handling messes among the upper class of society.

The elevator, with its elaborate brass cage took them to the top floor, where a gold and burgundy carpet in a medallion design awaited them. The walls were covered in silk, with gilt gas light fixtures hung with crystals. There were paintings of pastoral scenes interspersed with mirrors in more gilt frames. Several pier tables were set against the walls, with floral arrangements on them flanked by candelabra.

The whole effect was one of elegance and taste, while the early morning hour lent calmness to the hall. Windows at either end were open, letting the cool breeze come in and freshen the area. Jack and Dale were immune to the trappings of wealth and power; they'd both seen enough crime in upper class establishments to not be taken in with the gilded frame.

They knocked on the elaborately carved and painted double doors that led to the penthouse suite, expecting a houseman or black coated butler to answer the knock. Instead the door was answered by a tall man with dark hair and an air of authority. He was attired in grey slacks and a white linen shirt open at the neck; the casual dress did not in any way diminish the power he radiated.

Jack was taken aback at how quick and hard the door was flung open, and by the loudness of the voice that greeted them. Clearly the man standing there was used to being in charge of everything and everyone around him.

The detective squared his shoulders and put a non-committal smile on his face. Jack had dealt with titans of industry and business before; one of his best assets was that he didn't need to meet force with force. His father, a follower of the ponies, had taught him that a police officer could learn a lot by giving a suspect a long rein and the chance to incriminate himself.

"We are here to talk to Heath Barkley." Jack announced, after introducing himself and Dale, as they showed their badges. He noted that the man looked closely at their shields, and then gave them a direct stare.

"I am Nick Barkley; Heath is my brother." The man stated, in the same loud voice as before, leaving Jack to wonder if the man was hard of hearing. "Is there a problem, Detectives?" There was no doubt that this commanding man would happily keep them cooling their heels in the well decorated foyer if he wanted to.

"Our business is with Heath Barkley." Jack replied several octaves lower than his normal speaking voice; he wanted to see if the other man was hard of hearing. The booming reply he received made it clear that Nick Barkley had good hearing, but was used to being loud.

"It is rather early for a social call." The dark haired man barked, moving slightly forward and placing his feet – clad in black leather boots – hip width apart. Jack noticed that the man's right hand moved to his lower flank; the classic gesture of the cowboy or gunfighter reaching for his weapon. It came to him that no one who surprised Nick Barkley in dark alley would fare well.

"Is Mr. Heath Barkley available?" Jack replied a much milder voice than he was feeling; he wanted to keep things low key. Getting answers in the death of the unknown man were more important than stirring up trouble.

"Mr. Barkley, I understand your concern for your brother; I share that concern too. May we please talk to him?" Dale stepped up next to him, as he made his statement, palms up to show no hostility. In truth Jack was feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; there was something off about Nick Barkley's reluctance to let them into the suite, to talk to his brother.

Nick for his part had been surprised to see the two men outside the door of the penthouse at half past seven. The knocking on the door had made him aware of Heath's absence, so Nick had hurriedly thrown open the door, not noticing how it had banged against the hinges. He took quick note of the two men standing there, and was puzzled by their presence.

The younger man was dressed in a brown coat and pants of wool cloth; it was the type of outfit a mid-level clerk would wear. The man himself looked Irish; Nick was reminded of Jimmy Callahan with his fair skin, black hair, and dark blue eyes. His bearing though made it clear that he was in charge, even as Nick noted the age and better tailoring of his companion. This man had greying hair but was wearing a top coat of finely woven dark blue wool.

The pair put Nick on the alert, because he knew from Jarrod how major city police departments worked. It was customary to pair an up and coming detective with a senior officer – one who didn't want to achieve high rank, but liked knowing where the bodies were buried. A duo like this was sent out to investigate high level crimes – or crimes involving high level people. Either way their being here did not bode well for Heath.

"Of course gentlemen, please come in." Nick tamped down the impatience he was feeling, realizing that it would not help the situation. "Please help yourself to some coffee, and toast." He waved toward the cart, with the large coffee service, and extra cups. As was customary the room service cart always included extra cups and plates, in case there were private guests.

"Mr. Barkley, thank you for the offer of the coffee; it was an early morning." Jack smiled, thinking of how many wealthy people treated the police worse than dirt. His opinion of Nick Barkley went up slightly with the fact that man had been willing to offer hot coffee and warm toast. He and Dale exchanged a glance; neither one would have accepted the offer of course, but they noted that it had been made. "Now my partner and I would like to speak to your brother, so he can help us with a matter." The police officer hoped that by phrasing his request that way, the dark haired man would comply.

In truth Nick wanted to talk to Heath as badly as the detective did, since his brother was still not up and around. Deciding that the circumstances warranted it he strode over to the opposite side of the room, where an ornately carved door was positioned. This led to the suite that Heath and Sarah shared, and Nick didn't pause as he knocked firmly on the door. Nothing happened, so he knocked again, albeit with more force.

Now he heard the door handle turn and the door opened slightly, letting him see Sarah standing there, in a pale colored dressing gown. He noted her disheveled hair and puffy eyes, in spite of his concern about Heath. Clearly something was not right, and it caused to take a deep breath, before he spoke.

"Sarah, I'm sorry to bother you, but is Heath available?" Nick had lowered his voice, thinking that Sarah reminded him of a scared sparrow. _What had gone on last night, after they'd gone to bed?_ Nick wondered to himself. He had been curious about who Logan Dawes was to Heath, and in the cold light of morning couldn't fault Sarah her response to how Heath had reached out to the man. He was very familiar with how Heath's reticence about his past could make a person grind their teeth or lose their temper.

"Ah Heath is, Heath is." Sarah's mouth opened and shut, reminding Nick again of a bird caught unawares. "Just a moment." She stepped back and closed the door, leaving Nick standing on the threshold. Her disheveled appearance was cause for concern, and the confusion she presented about Heath's whereabouts bothered Nick. The police had up until now just been annoying, but if his brother wasn't around; well Nick decided he needed to be on alert.

It was only Nick's natural reticence about his brother's personal life, and Victoria's influence that kept Nick standing at the door. If it was just Heath he would have charged ahead but the presence of Sarah, Heath's wife gave him pause. Nick would not want Heath barraging in on Priscilla if the circumstances were reversed; even as he could not see that happening.

"Heath stayed up late, reviewing documents" Sarah opened the door and vainly tried to smile brightly "he doesn't like to disturb me, so he slept in the valet's room. Heath likes to get up early and went out to get coffee and explore the town." Her voice sounded more hopeful than convincing, but Nick couldn't disagree with her statement.

His brother was good at going off on his own, or keeping odd hours – he had noticed on more than one occasion that Heath and Jarrod shared that trait. Nick was sure that his brother had slept in the valet's room because of Sarah, Logan, and the coat rather than reviewing documents. No matter the cause, Nick understood that Sarah had no idea where Heath was, which made him sigh.

"Sarah, there are two police officers in the front parlor, wanting to speak to Heath." Nick soon saw that he had reason to regret his announcement.

 _Several hours earlier…_

"Am I entitled to an explanation?" Sarah struggled to keep a neutral note in her voice, as she turned to face Heath once he'd closed the door to their suite. There was so much she wanted to say – and wanted to know – but knew that she wouldn't get her answers easily.

"Sarah, please understand." Heath stated, and Sarah noted that he was facing her as he started to speak. _Oh great_ she reflected to herself, once again I am supposed to understand why my husband's past pops up unexpectedly. Sarah rather thought it was like a child's bad pantomime play; unfortunately it continually happened in her life.

"Please understand what? That you gave my gift to a stranger? Or a semi-stranger? That you never wanted to wear it in the first place?" Sarah sighed with sadness, as she walked over to the window, welcoming the draft that the tri-pane arched window let in, even as its diamond paned leaded top glowed silver with the moon.

"It is hard to explain." Heath replied, a strained note coming into his voice. This caught Sarah's attention, because normally her husband was cool as ice from the north. She was quick to see the wavering of confidence in his pale blue eyes.

"Really? Either you liked the coat or you didn't. This is not a complicated question." Sarah turned away from the window as she retorted, mentally throwing up her hands in frustration. Dealing with Heath was so hard she fumed; he wouldn't state what he wanted until a decision was made. If the decision wasn't what he wanted he would then comment on the matter in a cold tone of voice.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings Sarah. I just wasn't sure how to explain that." Heath reached out to take her hands but Sarah jerked away quickly. She knew all too well how quickly he could beguile her into their bed; it was one of the reasons in her mind that so many of their issues had never been settled.

"Oh, that it would be so hard to say thank you for giving me a fine coat I needed a top coat but I'm not sure about the cut? Could I take you into the city and we get it altered, have dinner and see a show?" Sarah retorted, just wishing that Heath had been upfront with her at the time she gave him the coat. Even as she thought that it came to her that _yet again_ she was wishing for Heath to share himself with her.

Heath had spent the whole ride back to the hotel struggling with the ramifications of seeing Logan again after so long. The memory of all those years in Carterson had come back to him, like a nightmare; however it had not been a nightmare but his life. The thought of being hungry, sick, and wondering when he was going to die were at forefront in his brain. Sarah and her barbed comments were suddenly more than he could handle.

"Can we not talk about this now? Please?" Heath sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I need some consideration." His hope was stating it like that, she wouldn't pry about Logan. He noted that so far she'd only addressed the matter of the coat and not the man who now had the garment. There was also the hope that maybe she would be sympathetic and step back. His hope was not to be fulfilled.

"My consideration? I am your wife; do you know what that means?" Sarah retorted angrily and Heath realized that he had misread his wife; yet again. Heath was all set to reply but Sarah went on with a disdainful tone in her voice. "You only think of my feelings if it doesn't affect you or anything else you have going on. If you really cared for me you would be honest about your life."

Heath knew he should have been surprised at how Sarah turned the situation into all about her, as if his feelings didn't matter. It hurt him – even more than he was hurting with his memories – as he recalled all the times he gave in to her, to keep the peace. A jagged bolt of pain hit his temples, and Heath realized he needed to end the conversation now, before he said something he couldn't take back.

"I have a headache, and I don't think either one of us is in the right frame of mind for this conversation." Heath took a deep breath, before he went on "I will sleep in the valet's room and we can discuss this tomorrow." He knew that he was coming off as cold and unfeeling, but he felt that cold was better than a red hot explosion of emotion.

Sarah stood open mouthed as he turned his back on her, and walked across to the servant's room. Heath opened and shut the door; she heard the hard click of the lock turning. That raised her ire even more, and she wanted to scream at him. She looked around but there was nothing to throw, so instead she stomped her foot to vent some of her fury.

 _Well fine, if that is what he wants so be_ it she muttered to herself, entering the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Sarah was fuming at how Heath had stonewalled her about the man and the coat; yet again she was left with her questions unanswered. She straightened her shoulders and decided to get ready for bed. After changing into her night clothes Sarah used the water closet, taking pleasure in knowing that Heath couldn't get to the room without going through the bedroom.

She settled into the big comfortable bed, planning on enjoying it for an hour or so, until Heath came wanting to get into her good graces. Sarah had seen on more than one occasion that Heath would give into her to keep the peace, as long as it didn't impact his private life. Her bravado crumpled at two in the morning, when she was along in bed; at that point she dissolved into tears, about her marriage and her life.

When the knock on the door came, startling her out of a fitful sleep Sarah sat straight up in bed. She was groggy but the knocking continued and out of habit she looked to the other side of the bed. Heath should have been there – but he wasn't! Suddenly the scenes from last night came to mind and Sarah realized that Heath had never come to bed.

The knocking was causing Sarah's head to hurt even worse than it was; with a sigh she went to get out of bed. Her plain dressing gown was at the foot of the bed; she liked the garment because it was lined with soft lamb's wool, which made it warm. After tying the cord around her waist she went and opened the door, surprised to see Nick, asking about Heath.

Sarah shut the door and quickly walked over to the valet's room, but it was empty. Further it didn't look like anyone had been in there at all. _Where was Heath?_ She thought to herself, worried about where he had spent the night. Sarah didn't want to tell Nick about the fight last night; instead she quickly thought of a plausible explanation.

"Heath stayed up late, reviewing documents" Sarah opened the door put a false smile on her face "he doesn't like to disturb me, so he slept in the valet's room. Heath likes to get up early and went out to get coffee and explore the town." It was hard work to sound positive and unconcerned, but when Nick told her about the police she couldn't contain her worry.

"The Police?" Her voice rose to an almost screech, and she dashed out of the room to confront the two detectives. It came to Nick that he had, in his haste, handled the matter of notifying Sarah very badly. Nick sighed with remorse, as he followed his sister-in-law out into the parlor.

Jack had been paying close attention to Nick's actions – and his tone of voice – as he talked to the woman that the detective presumed was Heath's wife. His decisive knocking on the door, but the hesitation he showed at going past the door; it was all indicative of a man who wasn't sure of his next step. That was telling to Jack because clearly his brother didn't know where Heath was; that thought was cut short by a shrill cry.

"Heath, Heath! Where is he? Is he all right?" Jack's ears were assaulted by the high tones, as the woman moved to face him. She was dressed in a plain dressing gown, with no ornamentation at all. He knew a great deal about women because of his past cases; it was part of the reason he still wasn't married.

Jack noted the disheveled pale brown hair; clearly it had not been brushed out before bed as women tended to do. He looked closer at the narrow face and saw dark circles under the light brown eyes, the face being almost pale while the eyebrows were faint at best. His father would have commented that the woman looked like a horse who'd been rode hard and put away wet; clearly Heath Barkley and his wife were not in a good place.

"Mrs. Barkley, we just want to talk to your husband about an incident that recently happened." Dale stepped up, and removing his gloves reached out to introduce himself. Jack noted how the older man, with his soothing voice, seemed to know what the frightened and worried woman needed to hear. Just as Dale was about to say something else, the door to the suite opened and everyone turned to face it.

The man who walked in was of medium height and build, with fair hair; he was wearing a dun colored oilcloth jacket and blue denim jeans. To say he looked out of place in the suite was putting it mildly, and both Jack and Dale looked with great interest at the newcomer. However before Jack could react the woman uttered another high pitch screamed and threw herself against the man.

Clearly this was Heath Barkley, Jack thought to himself, and made it a point to pay careful attention to everything that happened next. The man in question looked shocked at both his wife's reaction to him, and the other people in the suite. Jack was very interested as to where Heath had been all morning, but decided to hold back and see what the man himself said.

However, he didn't get his wish, as the woman erupted into hysterics, leaving every man paralyzed at what do about the situation. Jack counted to ten, and just as he was set to incur his authority, the door on the opposite of the room opened up, bringing salvation to his dilemma.

A woman came into the parlor, dressed in a ruby red velvet dressing gown, ornamented with red silk bows and ivory colored lace. Jack noticed the dark gold hair prettily plaited and fastened with a black silk cord, even as he was observing the creamy complexion with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. The woman looked like a Christmas present, Jack smiled involuntarily.

"Nicholas, what is going on?" Her tone was soft and concerned, as she glided over to the dark haired man. Jack noted how quickly the man put his arm around the woman and pulled her close against him, not caring who saw his affection. They were happy, Jack mused, even as he hoped the woman would deal with her sister-in-law, who he was assuming the other woman was. He noted Nick Barkley whispering something to her, probably about the police in the suite.

Jack wasn't sure what the dark haired man had said, but he felt like the woman had read his mind, because she disengaged herself from her husband, and walked over to the other couple. The woman was still clinging to Heath, even as the man looked embarrassed as he awkwardly stroked his wife's shoulder.

"Sarah, it is all right." The woman in the red dressing gown took the other woman – Jack now knew that her name was Sarah – hands and clasped them in hers. "Whatever is going on will be sorted out. Why don't you come with me, and have some tea while the men talk?" She looked at her husband, who nodded his head, before she turned to look at Jack. While admiring her blue eyes Jack was glad to give the assent to get Sarah out of the room.

"Heath Barkley?" Jack stepped forward to the man in the work clothes, noting the circles under his pale blue eyes. He and Dale showed their shields, and introduced themselves. Nick Barkley indicated the room service tray, even as he directed the group over to the sitting area in the parlor. Jack noted that the dark haired man positioned him and his brother on the sofa, leaving the two detectives to take the flanking chairs.

"My I call you Heath?" Jack asked, liking to put persons of interest on a first name basis, to diminish their self-importance. There was also the matter that with two Mr. Barkley's the conversation could get confusing. Heath nodded, and waited for the detective to go on; Jack recognized the tactic right away, having used it many times himself. After several minutes of silence he started to wonder if Heath had been a criminal, lawman or both; in the west justice wasn't black and white as he'd learned early on.

"This morning a body was discovered in the park that runs along Colfax Avenue." Jack decided to be forthcoming, recognizing that Heath would only respond to candor. As he made his statement he waved his hand in the direction of the park. The brothers nodded, knowing the area he was indicating.

"The man was dressed like one of the beggars that camp out along the Platte." Jack noticed how Heath winced at the term beggar; clearly he'd struck a nerve which made him smile inwardly. The blonde man was not quite as stoic as he would like to seem. "However, he was wearing a very fine wool coat with a Persian wool collar. The maker's label indicated a tailor in San Francisco; also in the breast pocket were your card and a ten dollar note from the U.S. Mint in San Francisco." Jack sat back and waited to see how Heath would respond.

"Logan Dawes?" Heath sat up very straight, and for the first time Jack saw emotion in the man's eyes. It was sorrow and pain; before now Heath's eyes had been flat, even when dealing with his wife. Jack found himself disliking this man, even as he wasn't sure why. However, he had to get to the bottom of the dead body, so he tamped his feelings down.

"Logan? Is that the man's name?" Dale pounced on Heath's admission, and Jack was glad for his partner picking up the questioning. The man was invaluable in so many ways, and Jack had always been grateful that they'd been put together. His tone was smooth and even, as if he was inquiring about the weather.

"Yes, Logan Dawes. I knew him many years ago but hadn't seen him until last night." Heath replied, before standing up to go get some coffee. Jack doubted that the man wanted coffee, but wanted to buy time to compose his reply. This made him suspicious of Heath Barkley; an innocent man would have offered up an explanation right away. Once Heath had coffee he came back to the sofa, and sitting down, explained how they'd been at the Opera House last night. Heath talked about Logan coming up to them, Heath recognizing him, and the talk they'd shared.

"It was freezing cold Detective Regan, and I had a covered carriage coming. I gave him my coat, my card, and some money." Heath looked Jack directly in the eye, carefully widening his eyes, which put the police officer on even higher alert. This man was clever and shrewd; Jack hated criminals who had those traits. On the other hand, he mentally reminded himself, they did tell good stories. "I also asked him to join me for breakfast this morning. He wanted to go to Georgetown, for a mining job."

Jack inwardly conceded that Heath's story was plausible, and a jury would probably accept it, especially with the note of concern about his long lost friend. One of the things that Jack hated about being a detective was always being worried about the final outcome – the trial. However in this case there were just too many loose ends, and things that were off to make him wary.

"Really Heath, I have to say this sounds slightly far-fetched." Jack was careful to let the skepticism he was feeling be heard in his reply. "You haven't seen this man in years – how long ago? – And yet you give him an expensive coat, money, and your card. And now you are telling me you asked him to meet you this morning?" The disbelief was apparent to everyone in the room, Jack noted, as Nick Barkley turned to look at his brother with a direct look.

"It wasn't like that!" Heath replied hotly, and Jack could see that his barbs had gotten under the man's skin. "I've known Logan; he was; I mean." The quick reply stopped and Heath suddenly sat back, his one leg on top of his other leg, as he crossed his arms. It was the position of a man who wasn't going to say anything else.

"Just what do you mean Heath? Logan was a friend?" Dale stepped into the silence, after he'd given Jack a quick look, to get the ok to proceed. Jack was glad that Dale was moving up to play _good cop_ as opposed to his _bad cop_. It gave the suspect more time to probably incriminate themselves, and Jack was now sure that Heath was not telling them the truth about Logan Dawes.

"I knew Logan Dawes several years ago; we had lost touch until last night." Heath sat up straight but kept his arms crossed. "He is a hard worker, and I was more than willing to help him find a job up in Georgetown." He stopped there, while giving the police officers a hard stare.

"What was your plan to meet with him with morning? Is that why you were out so early?" Dale asked with a smile, as if they were having a casual conversation. Jack waited eagerly to hear what story – and he was sure it was a story – Heath Barkley would come up with.

"After we returned from the Opera House, I stayed up to review some business documents before going to sleep. I'm used to rising early, because of the work on our ranch." Heath started to explain and looked to his brother for corroboration; Nick nodded at the comment. "Everyone else was asleep, so I dressed and went to go exploring. I walked." He mentioned the streets he'd walked through, and the hole in the wall place that he'd had coffee. Jack recognized all of them, and had to give the man credit for having his alibi so well prepared.

"Before we parted last night I had given Logan a pat on the back, and whispered for him to meet me in the lobby of the hotel for breakfast." Heath uncrossed his arms, and reached for his coffee cup, taking a drink as if he had no worries in the world. It came to Jack that whether Heath was lying or telling the truth he was as cunning as they come.

"So you expected Logan Dawes to come into the lobby of this establishment, and wait for you? Heath, even with your fine coat the doorman and desk clerk are trained to keep beggars out." Jack noted how Dale used the word beggar, and as Heath winced at the term he knew that the older man had picked up on their suspect's dislike of the word in the earlier conversation. It was time for Jack to pounce, and he took advantage of the opening Dale had given him.

"Heath, what I think happened is that Logan Dawes is from your past – but not a friend – rather a threat to you." Jack leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. "You didn't ask him to meet you in the lobby, but rather in the park, very early in the morning. This was just a precaution, in case sending him back to the homeless encampment along the Platte, in an expensive coat and money in his pocket, didn't get him killed."

"When he showed up this morning you killed him, and left him in the park, for us to find him. You were hoping it would be a beggar being killed, but you left the coat and money. Thugs always take anything that can be sold." Jack delivered his verdict, and was surprised that it was Nick Barkley who responded first.

"Hang on there Detective! You are way out of line and going down the wrong alley." Nick Barkley stood up, all six foot three of him, as he lowered his face to Jack's level. "My brother was almost killed yesterday at the railroad station, and your department has done nothing about that!" The voice boomed around the room, causing the china on the table to shake. Jack groaned inwardly, not liking this complexation, even as he asked about it.

"Well I will certainly follow up with the railroad detectives; they haven't said anything about the matter to us." Jack sniffed with disapproval, not really believing Nick's story. In his experience the railroad men were always quick to hand anything off to the local police that might be messy.

"Heath, please don't go anywhere. As of now you are the main suspect in Logan Dawes' murder." Jack stood up, as Dale followed suit. What he said next was delivered in measured but firm and satisfied tones. "Until you came to town the man was living in peace along the river, and less than a day of you being in town he is dead. You can certainly see the way the dots connect."

After that statement the men took their leave, heading to the elevator. In any other establishment Jack would have put his ear against the door. However, the Queen Hotel had solid walls and doors, so he knew better to waste his time. Instead he stepped back and signaled for Dale to follow him down to the end of the hall.

"Heath Barkley is hiding something, and it has to do with Logan Dawes." Jack declared, and Dale nodded in agreement. They spent several minutes discussing their observations from the interview, before they moved to the elevator.

"When we get back to the station, let's get all information we can on both Heath Barkley, and Logan Dawes. There is something we are missing in all this." Jack directed and Dale nodded in agreement. Heath wasn't the first wealthy man to have skeletons in his closet, and the partners had dealt with men in the same position more than once.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: Horace Tabor did not become a major player in Denver until the mid-1880's, but for the sake of my story I have moved him back to the 1870's. I like the idea of including historical characters in my story, to make them more relevant and interesting. Horace Tabor was a driving force, in the advancement of both Denver and the state of Colorado. Oh, and course the Baby Doe affair!**_

 _ **Chapter Nine**_

"Boy you have some explaining to do and I want you to do it now!" Nick's voice was loud, and Heath noted the hands on the hips, booted feet spread apart. That was his older brother's stance when demanding something that he meant to get. "You disappear who knows where, the police show up, and your _friend_ turns up dead!"

Heath caught the inflection on the word friend, and groaned inwardly; he wasn't ready to talk about Logan yet. Seeing the man last night, after several years, had caught him off guard and brought back memories he kept on trying to forget. He didn't get the chance to reflect on those though, because he and Sarah had quarreled when they retired to their room.

She was hurt and angry that he'd given her gift away, even as she taunted him with the fact that he'd never liked it. Heath didn't lie well, and Sarah was in no frame of mind to give him the benefit of the doubt. The upshot was that Heath had, without a final word, strode off to the servants bedroom, to spend the night.

However he didn't get any sleep, since he was tossing and turning while thinking of Sarah's angry words and the scars that Logan's appearance had opened up. Finally at four o'clock Heath gave up, and putting his working clothes on – the ones he'd brought to wear in the mines – decided to go for a walk and clear his head. Heath wanted to be at his best when he talked to Logan, so he could help him in any way possible.

"Nick, it's complicated." Heath rubbed his forehead with his hand, trying to get rid of the lingering headache he'd had since the fall at the station yesterday. All he wanted was some quiet time, but between Sarah and Nick it wasn't going to happen. He looked over at the bedroom door, where Sarah was with Priscilla, and Heath decided that tearing the scab of the wound with Nick was better than dealing with his wife.

"I met Logan when I first arrived at Carterson." Heath's voice hitched, and he saw his older brother's eyes widen. Nick's hands dropped from his hips, and he sat down next to Heath on the sofa. His older brother now had a look of concern on his face; of any of the family Nick understood best about his experience in the prisoner of war camp in east Texas.

"Matt Bentell wasn't the commandant when I arrived; it was another man who was from Georgia. He felt bad for the local farms, whose men had been called up, or whose slaves had run away." Heath balled his fists, and took a deep breath before he went on. "Captain Winston was a fine southern gentleman who thought that since we Yankees wanted to fight for darkies, we should work like them."

"I was assigned to the Dawes' farm; the family had never owned slaves. However, the owner felt the need to defend his land and state's rights against outsiders. He left his aged father, a wife and a son – Logan – who was only fourteen." He let Nick connect the dots, since his brother knew he'd been almost fourteen when he'd been captured.

"Logan's Ma and his Grandpa were horrified that someone as young as me had been in the war. Logan himself was just glad to have someone his own age. I spent the next several months working for them, and they took mighty good care of me. Not only me Nick, but I was able to smuggle food to the other men at the prison. However, it all came to an end when Captain Winston was called to fight, and Matt arrived."

By now Heath had made peace with Matt, but seeing Logan had brought up to the surface his time in the camp all over again. Heath knew that having started the story with Nick he would have to finish it and without any fissure of guilt went over and poured himself a shot of bourbon, which he drank in one swallow.

"Matt stopped the prisoners going off to work on the farms and plantations, not liking the fraternizing with the outsiders. Of course, by then most of the men were too sick to work, as rations were cut near down to nothing. The Confederacy couldn't afford to feed its own men, let alone its prisoners." Heath made his statement, keeping his back to Nick, as he looked at the wall. A pastoral landscape in a gilded frame hung there, but the image of Carterson prison was all he could see.

"Logan and his family kept me alive for a bit, smuggling food, until Logan was called up – March 1865." Heath paused, and he saw that Nick noted the significance of the date. "The south surrendered before Logan could fight, but the Union army rescued me before Logan came home. I didn't see him again until seven years ago, in Elk Creek down by Santa Fe. Well you heard the rest of the story last night." He finished his tale, and poured himself another shot of bourbon.

"Heath I feel for you, and admire what you wanted to do for your friend, but do you not understand that your evasions have only made the police suspicious?" He looked at his Heath sorrowfully, feeling bad for all that he'd been through; unfortunately there could be worse to come. "Those detectives are ready to arrest you; the chance to tell you side of the story has passed. We need to wire Jarrod." Nick stated emphatically.

"No, we don't need Jarrod yet. Nick, your comment about me almost being killed at the railroad station yesterday;" Heath felt his brain waking up, and he put down his glass. Instead he helped himself to more coffee, before he articulated the nasty suspicion that had come to him. "I wore that coat to the Opera House, and we talked to lots of people when we first arrived. What if Logan was killed because they thought he was me? He was in a park bordering the hotel I was staying at, and if someone was after me, well then they are following my movements." He let the comment hang out there, giving Nick the chance to process his words.

"It all makes sense, Heath, even as I hate to admit it! Someone seems to want you dead." Nick declared and helped himself to the whiskey on the drinks tray. "But why would he – or they – want your dead? Is it from your past?" Heath felt his brother's eyes bore into him, and Logan's face came to his mind.

"I can't believe it is my past." He answered. "I am rather thinking it is the prospect of what kind of mining reform I want to implement. Some of it doesn't come cheap, and there are mine owners who don't want to pay to protect their workers." Heath's face took on a contemptuous look as he made the observation.

"Well then we need to pay special attention at lunch today, to see who is surprised at you being there." He tossed back the drink, and flashed an infectious grin, which Heath had seen all too often. Someone had thrown down the gauntlet to the 'Barkley family' and his middle brother would never pass on a challenge.

"What lunch are you talking about?" Heath queried, even as he was concerned about Nick on the offensive. He suddenly wished Jarrod was here, but their older brother was busy with the legislature meeting in Sacramento. The whole family had been surprised at how suddenly Jarrod was happy to be in the capitol for the entire term, even as he'd disdained it before. However he sighed inwardly, knowing that he and Nick were on their own in Denver.

"Roland White – the attorney for the trust – is hosting a gentleman's lunch for us at the Mining Exchange Club. We are going to meet all the major players in the Rocky Mountain mining business. Didn't you read the twenty page briefing the man presented?" Nick sneered, reminding Heath that Nick didn't care for Roland in the least.

It also came to Heath that Nick was much more involved in the trust than what he'd originally been led to believe. Heath remembered the meeting at the Jarrod's office in Stockton and how he'd asked about the parameters of the trust and his position. He silently chided himself for not realizing that Nick could never be hands off with anything, especially involving the woman he loved.

"Well let's go see of if the ladies want breakfast." Nick's voice was jovial, as he stood up, breaking Heath's train of thought. Heath privately hoped that tea and soothing talk had calmed Sarah down. He was also aware that he had amends to make with her, about last night and the coat incident.

It was almost noon when Heath and Nick entered the Denver Mining Exchange. The club was located on the top floor of a six story red sandstone building ornamented with cream colored plaster swags and columns. The building was halfway between the capitol and Union Station giving easy proximity to the men who ran the Rocky Mountain's government and business.

The brothers paid close attention to how they were greeted, and the men they talked to, but didn't see any surprised faces. Instead they were welcomed gladly, and Heath especially was surprised to find out how many mine owners felt the same way he did. It turned out that there was a shortage of workers, since the US government had recently passed stricter immigration quotas. The general feeling was that they were lucky to have the workers they did, and would do anything to keep the mines running.

The only hold out was Horace Tabor, who had been a rival of Joseph Van DerHoffen ever since they arrived in Denver. Both men came from modest means, but had made vast fortunes, which they had parlayed into social and political standing. It had galled Horace when Joseph received the Senatorial appointment, while he'd been force to settle for Lt. Governor. Nick and Heath knew this from the briefing reports that Jarrod had received from the Pinkerton's, before leaving California.

At the end of an over two hour lunch which included fine food and wine, the brothers only came away well fed. In the short carriage ride back to the hotel, Heath and Nick started to discuss the luncheon. They spent several minutes running through various possibilities, but while they agreed that Horace Tabor didn't like mining reform, they couldn't see him trying to kill Heath.

"Maybe we've been wrong about the mining reform being the cause of the attacks on me." Heath had started to form a suspicion in his mind as he'd over heard two men make a ribald comment about the late Mrs. Van DerHoffen. He remembered Priscilla's oblique comment that her sister had not been a good wife, even as he thought about his interactions with the woman in question. The conversation on the train yesterday came back to him, and he knew he had to address the issue with Nick.

"What, it is someone else from your past?" Nick sounded exasperated, as if he didn't want to deal with some shadow figure that he couldn't confront. Heath knew that Nick was frustrated at times in how, even as close as they were; Heath wouldn't share anything unless it was pertinent to the situation at hand.

"I am wondering if it has something to do with Hester." Heath put the idea at there, and watched as Nick took in what he was saying. He knew that his brother wanted to be done forever with the woman, but since he'd married her half-sister; well Heath had to wonder how Nick had thought that he could ever really be done with the woman.

"Hester? Why do you think that?" Nick's voice rose, as an incredulous look came over his face.

"I remember Priscilla, yesterday morning, talking about how Hester's house had been broken into. What if Hester was involved in something that could incriminate an important person." Heath tilted his head to look over at his brother. "Why should the house be broken into unless there is something in there? Maybe I'm being attacked because I am the public face of the trust, or it is among some of the papers I might see."

"Heath, I think that is something of stretch. Hester was in Europe for over six months; when she returned to Denver, she was barely there for a week before she came to Stockton." Nick's voice was tight, and Heath knew he was reliving what had happened when Hester had turned up in California.

"Look, I grant you it is reaching, but I would like to talk to Priscilla, about any papers Joseph and Hester left. I know that she is going to go through their old house." Heath looked with concern at his brother, as he thought about how to broach his other request. It concerned private matters, which he was uncomfortable about sharing. On the other hand though it would help is life stay calm.

"I hope you won't ask why, but I would prefer for Sarah not to know about my interest in Hester's affairs." Heath could only imagine how his wife would react at the idea that he was interested in Hester's actions, or that she could be the reason for the attacks on his life.

"Of course Heath." Nick answered, way too understandingly, making him wonder just what his brother had seen or heard. "May I ask if everything was all right after this morning? I apologize again for disturbing Sarah the way I did. I should have been more tactful." That remark caused Heath to laugh, as Nick and tact didn't go together. Heath reflected that Nick had borne the brunt of Sarah's reaction to the news that he was gone.

"Yes we're fine. She just didn't understand my actions, and the coat had been a gift." Heath nodded his head, not wanting to go into the details of the _**talk**_ that he and Sarah had done earlier that morning. Wanting to put his brother off the idea of any problems in his marriage, he added "Sarah and I are going to go shopping together, to get me a new coat. I told her that we should pick one out together."

"Just the ticket, brother!" Nick slapped him on the back. "You should do some shopping for a nice piece of jewelry too. Ladies love sparkly things that come in ribboned boxes." His face took on an infectious grin, as he roared with laughter.

Heath remembered Jarrod saying something similar, after the fight Heath and Sarah had had, when Hester had come to town. Clearly in his brothers' minds, jewelry solved any women problems a man had. The issue for Heath is that Sarah didn't like to wear elaborate – or any – jewelry. She had told him on more than one occasion that she'd rather have the money in the bank.

He admired her simple, frugal attitude, but it made it hard to buy gifts for her. Heath thought about all the items he had wished he could buy for his mother, while she was alive. What was the point of having money, if you couldn't enjoy it? His thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the hotel and he followed his brother upstairs.

Heath and Nick didn't realize it, but there had been a man at the luncheon that'd been shocked and horrified at Heath being there. He had earlier that morning received a note stating that Heath Barkley was dead, and setting up a meeting to get the rest of his money. The reason why the brothers didn't see the man's face was because his back had been to the door, as the men had walked in to the club. He was glad that he was facing the drinks tray, because his countenance had taken on a mixture of fury and puzzlement. Abner had not killed Heath Barkley, and he had failed two times now; Abner had never been anything but quick and precise. How dare he fail him now, when so much was at stake?

Knowing he needed to do his social duties he forced those thoughts from his mind, and turned to greet the Barkley brothers. He had enjoyed watching Horace Tabor almost going face to face with Heath Barkley. In truth Horace still had a thorn in his side about Joseph and the senatorial appointment, rather than mining reform.

He was not the only man who enjoyed Heath and Horace do their sparring, because most men in Denver felt that Horace was just too impressed with himself. They all knew about Baby Doe – his nineteen year old mistress – who he had installed in his mansion at Leadville. They didn't fault Horace his mistress; more than one of them had dalliances outside of marriage. However, they played by society's rules in regarding relations with women who weren't their wives. Horace's flaunting of this social convention went against the grain; privately they were making book on when Augusta was going to start divorce proceedings against her badly behaved husband.

The man speculating all this though could have cared less about Horace and his mistress; personal relations were secondary to making money. He only cared about his bottom line, and how Heath could ruin the income stream he had going. The lunch was tedious, as he'd had to put up with the man he'd thought he was going to pay for having been killed.

Late afternoons in October, the sun started to set around five o'clock; there would be light until almost seven o'clock, but it was clear that winter was coming. The original plan had been for him to take his carriage to the Tenderloin, where Abner would hail him. However the well-dressed man, filled with fury at how things had turned out, had instead sent the messenger – an imbecile of boy who would run errands with no memory of what he'd done or whom he'd seen – changing the meeting place.

The south-west part of Denver, by the Platt River was flat, rugged and either flooded or dry. The buildings around the area were warehouses, small factories and production facilities. A spur of rail line joined the Union Pacific siding, which linked up with the central railyard and other railroad companies. The well-dressed gentleman had chosen it carefully knowing that neither he nor Abner would look out of place, even as it gave him the advantage in dealing with hired thug.

"Guvnor I don't like this at all." A voice was heard before the speaker was seen, and the well-dressed man tightened his grey-gloved hand making a fist. He felt a welling up of power, as he realized that he was finally going to bring Abner to heel. Clearly he wanted the money he'd been promised very badly. For his part, having dealt with Abner for too many years without having the upper hand, the gentleman knew that he was in charge.

"You don't like this? How do you think I feel?" The well-dressed man strode up to where Abner was standing off to the side and took pleasure in confronting him head on. "You have failed in your commission, Abner. You're getting sloppy! Bad enough that you missed at the train station, but then you lied to me about Heath Barkley being dead." He raised his hand, the open palm barely missing Abner's cheek as he swung.

He took pleasure in watching Abner quake with fear, and the grey gloved man felt a wave of satisfaction come over him, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Physical relations were over rated, as he knew already, but he'd never had the experience of imposing brutal force over another person. This was the most exquisite emotion he'd ever felt, and he reveled in the moment.

"Guvnor no, stop! What do you mean?" Abner in his plain brown clothes was groveling – yes groveling – in front of him and the well-dressed man felt a rush of pleasure. He relished the thought of beating Abner, and he would if he didn't believe it would mess up his suit. But he saw that he didn't need to. The man already cowered with fear. The other occasions, when he'd needed Abner, he'd been forced to bow to his will. Now though, Abner would bow to him; he gloated to himself.

"I just finished having lunch with Heath Barkley; the man you said you killed this morning!" He was not only annoyed that Heath was alive, but that Abner had tried to get money out of him when he'd not completed the job.

"No that is not possible; I killed him." Abner went to explain about how he'd followed Heath to the Opera House and then seen him in the park the next morning. He'd come up in back of him and shot him, being careful to leave the coat and the items in the pockets intact, to aid discovery.

"Well you killed someone, but not Heath." The man growled, looking at Abner with malevolence. "It comes back to my original statement that you have failed twice now; do you have another plan?" In truth the man was almost ready to kill Heath himself, to save everything he'd worked so hard for.

The next couple of minutes were spent with Abner trying to justify his failure, but the well-dressed man didn't listen. Instead he focused on enjoying the spectacle of Abner pandering to him. Only the feeling of distaste, in having to kill Heath himself, made him willing to give Abner another chance.

"Heath is in town for six more days, before he heads to Georgetown. You need to kill him before, otherwise" the well-dressed man raised his clenched fist again, before he continued "if you don't kill him in Denver I will kill him in Georgetown; but not before killing you first!" He declared, looking the hired assassin straight in the eye. At the back of his mind was the knowledge that Georgetown, a mining town, would undoubtedly have lots of men who would be pleased to take the commission he wanted completed


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: The outside of Hester's house is similar to the Byers-Evans House in Denver. The interior descriptions are my own design, based on many historic houses I have toured.**_

 _ **Chapter 10**_

Sarah was in the parlor of the suite, on the morning of the fourth day in Denver, feeling at loose ends. Heath and Nick had left earlier for a livestock auction, followed by lunch. She was ready to go back to California, after all the troubles that had gone on since they'd arrived in Denver. Heath had almost fallen under a train on the day of the arrival, and then the next day had only been worse.

After the fight they'd had the night before, about that nasty beggar who was Heath's old friend, and the coat, she'd been woken up by Nick pounding on the door. He wanted Heath, and it had embarrassed Sarah that her brother-in-law was aware that Heath had not been with her. Nick's mention of the police had made her sick with fear that something had happened to Heath. The emotions, coming after a night of no sleep pushed her over the edge, and led to her hysterics.

She cringed as she relived the scene in the parlor, before Priscilla took her away, to calm her down. Later she and Heath had talked, and he'd been very apologetic about everything, which made her feel slightly better. Sarah still didn't understand about his connection to Logan Dawes, but then Heath never told her anything unless he absolutely had to.

"Good morning Sarah." Priscila's voice broke her reverie and she looked at her sister-in-law with interest. Normally the woman didn't make an appearance until almost noon, so Sarah was surprised to see her. She noted though how pale Priscilla looked, and Sarah wondered yet again if Priscilla was enceinte. Sarah knew that her life would be miserable if her fear was true.

"Good Morning Priscilla; what a pretty outfit." She replied to her sister-in-law's greeting, as she noted the clothes. The overdress was a dark cornflower blue silk, with the front of the skirt showing an underskirt of raspberry silk. The buttons, trim, and bows were all made from a silk plaid that combined the two colors. It was eye catching to say the least, and the hat only added interest with its plumes of the same colors.

Sarah was sure the dress was from London, where Priscilla's grandmother had purchased most of Priscilla's trousseau. The clothes were all beautiful, and well-made; her sister-in-law had let her examine one of the dresses. She could only imagine what it had all cost, and Sarah envied the dressmaker's purse who had been the recipient of the money.

"Thank you." Priscilla smiled happily, which offset the pallor of her skin. Sarah was curious as to why Priscilla was out of bed earlier than usual. She asked her sister-in-law what her plans for the day were, to find out the reason.

"I am going over to Hester's house, to make sure it is ready to be turned over to the new owners." When Priscilla answered, an idea came to Sarah. She'd always been fascinated by Hester, and how easily the woman could dominate any social setting. The chance to see how she lived was not something to be missed.

"Would you like some company? I really didn't have anything planned, and we could always go get lunch afterwards." Sarah hoped she wasn't coming off as too eager. It surprised her to see concern and almost shock on Priscilla's face.

"Of course that would be delightful." The reply was agreeable, but Sarah still had the feeling that Priscilla did not want her along. She was curious as to the reason, since her sister-in-law had never been anything but welcoming to her before. If it was anyone else Sarah would suspect an elicit rendezvous, but Priscilla was too upright and religious – not to mention passionately in love with Nick – to engage in that kind of behavior.

The drive over barely took five minutes, once they were in the carriage; in truth they could have walked there. Sarah recognized the street they were on, as the top echelon of Denver real estate. The mansions – and all the houses were mansions – were set back from the street with wrought iron fences ornamented with fine landscaping.

The Van DerHoffen house was smooth brick, glazed a rich brown and ornamented with a black wrought iron porch. The roof and its overhangs were black, while there were creamy plaster arches set into the brick, above the windows. The windows were large, and she could see off the side a five-sided two story structured attached to the house, that would provide sitting rooms with window seats.

"There is a lot of furniture here; what will you do with it all?" Sarah asked, having followed Priscilla through the initial walk through of the mansion. In truth Sarah was envious beyond words, at being able to enjoy such a sumptuous city dwelling. She compared this house to her house back home, that sat all by itself and was almost plain inside. It made her sad because she knew that Heath would never want to live in a place like this.

"Actually most of it is sold already, but some things have been held back." Priscilla turned to look at her, as they stood in the front entrance hall after walking through the house. "There are several very valuable pieces of French Ormolu furniture that I want for our bedroom at home. We are using the bed from Nick's old room, but the rest of the pieces just didn't work." She waved her hands in the air, as if Sarah should be able to understand the problem.

Sarah already knew how Victoria had turned over the grand master suite at the big house to Nick and Priscilla, opting for the slightly smaller room on the main floor. Both suites had their own water closet, but Sarah had discerned that Victoria was making her approval of Nick's marriage known, by turning over the main suite to the couple.

"Nick actually just wanted to sell everything, because he wants to be done with Hester." Priscilla gave her a direct look, and Sarah yet again admired Priscilla's grace towards Nick and her sister. Before she could ponder further, Priscilla's voice went on. "However, there are some nice pieces, especially the chandelier in the front hall." She gestured up towards the fixture that took up the entire hallway, being made of crystal balls the size of peaches and pendants of dazzling etched leaded crystal.

"Victoria has wanted a larger chandelier for the front hall at the house, and when I told her about this piece she was excited. It is from Venice." Priscilla went on to talk the province of the chandelier, but then moved on to the other plans she and Victoria seemed to have for the main house. Sarah listened to Priscilla's chatter and felt envious, at the bond the woman clearly shared with the matriarch.

Of course, Sarah reminded herself, she had been the one to hold back, from the few overtures her mother-in-law had made to her. Sarah rather suspected that Victoria had been careful in her approach because of Heath, and how he liked to run his life. She knew that he loved the Barkleys, but also had seen that there was a part of him that liked his own space. Even as she contemplated that she had a sad thought that his space wasn't always her space.

"The biggest help Sarah would be for you to go through the guest rooms – there are three – on the second floor. Honestly my only concern is anything of a personal nature; photographs, or something with a monogram." Priscilla detailed, and Sarah was rather disappointed not to get access to Hester's private chambers.

Not that she was sure why she really wanted to see the late woman's bedroom. All she could put it down to was the knowledge that Hester had aroused some deep seated – emotion or passion – in Heath. She knew that she was only going off of third hand information; yes Heath had told her his side of the affair, but after all men always rewrote events to make them look better.

Sarah knew that she dwelt too much on her husband's past affairs, but she could admit it was because she only heard about them from other people. If only Heath would talk to her directly, and tell her everything; then she could let it all go. However Heath wouldn't or couldn't seem to be able to do that. Of course it was hard for Heath to share any personal details of his life; she'd noticed that when they were courting and now wished she'd paid more attention to the trait.

Sarah went off in the direction of Priscilla's wave of her hand, climbing the stairs that had a polished banister of dark wood, carved in a motif of fruits and vegetables. The carpet on the stairs was an oriental design of gold, cream, and black. She entered the first guest room and noted that the décor was first rate, if heavy on brocade side with crimson drapes. She opened the drawers of the bureau, while noticing that it was newly made and not anything special. The gilded frames of the pictures on the wall were more interesting than the pastoral scenes shown.

The next room was smaller, but finer detailed with a sitting area that featured a chaise lounge and delicate side table. The theme was pink chintz, pink roses, and pink silk; in truth the last time Sarah had seen so much pink was Audra's wedding. Honestly, she mused to herself, what was it with society women and the color pink? Sarah turned her attention to the armoire on the side wall, but didn't find anything in the drawers that she carefully opened up. The desk was pretty and delicate, but on further inspection very impractical.

The third guest room had a different feel to it; neither masculine nor feminine in décor. The drapes and bedding were gold and blue striped damask, the rug an oriental with blues, creams, and browns. The furniture almost looked like it'd been culled from cast offs from other rooms. Sarah went with a methodical search through the room, leaving the armoire in the corner for last; it was heavy and made of a pale wood, taking up the whole corner of the room.

Her first surprise was when she tried to open the doors they seemed to be stuck, which puzzled her. There wasn't a lock on the door, and from what Sarah had experienced so far, Denver wasn't humid enough to suffer from wood expanding and getting stuck.

She took a step back and looked at the massive piece of furniture; it looked out of place in this room. However it had probably ended up here because of its size; maybe also because it had been badly constructed? The wood was fine, which she knew from Heath and his hobby of building things. Sarah though, as she looked closer saw that the seams and joints weren't well done at all. They did offset the elaborate floral carving, but she knew what Heath would say about the piece.

That thought caused her to try to get the doors to open, and she spent several minutes jiggling the brass knobs on the doors to no avail. She peered closer at the handles, wondering if they were just decorative; no they looked like they were supposed to open. Puzzled she tilted her head, and looked at the floral carving that decorated the door edges.

One of the flowers looked odd, as if it wasn't as well carved as the others. Sarah leaned in, and realized that the petals of the flowers were slightly worn. You would only notice it on close inspection, which made her wonder why it would be in that condition. Suddenly a memory came to her, of a book she'd read, about a hidden drawer in a desk. It could only be opened by pressing a carved medallion at the corner of the desk.

Sarah slowly reached her fingers out, and lightly at first, then with more pressure, touched the flower. It took several tries before she found the correct petal, but when she did Sarah heard a latch pop. The doors moved, and she was able to open them up easily. At first glance she saw some clothes hanging, and realized she needed more light. Sarah crossed the room and pulled open the heavy damask drapes, letting the sunlight in.

Now she could see that there were six evening dresses there, lavish with expensive trims but out of date by today's standards. Sarah's mouth watered, as she thought about how her mother could remake these dresses. They would sell for a great deal of money, and she wished she could take them with her. Her attention on the dresses though didn't last, as she looked down at the floor of the armoire and saw four hat boxes.

They were prettily decorated, and as she bent down to look at them Sarah recognized the name of the best hat maker in Denver. There were two boxes on the right, side by side; she opened them and was disappointed to see they were empty. Two other boxes were stacked on top of each other in the left corner, so Sarah reached in and pulled them to the front. The box on top was also empty, but the fourth one made up for what the other three had lacked.

On the top was an old fashioned hat, well-worn that took up most of the box; or so she thought until she lifted it out. Underneath was a brown leather book, and when Sarah glanced through the pages she saw that it was a business ledger of sorts. Each page had writing on one side – notes of business, and an accounting ledger with entries on the other. Sarah looked at the flyleaf, but didn't see any indication of whom it belonged to.

She looked in the box again, and saw an oilskin bag tied with waxed cords. Sarah had wondered why this box was heavier than the others, and when she lifted the bag out it was clear that that was the reason why. It took her several minutes to get the wax cords loose enough to untie, but when she saw what was inside Sarah's eyes went wide.

There was a plethora of gold and silver coins, along with paper money; it boggled her mind as she quickly estimated how much money was in the bag. Sarah put her hand in the bag, and felt the hardness of the metal coins against her skin. There was easily several thousand dollars, and she sat back on her heels, her mind thinking hard.

Clearly the money must belong to Hester; it was in her house, among her old clothes. Sarah was intrigued at how Hester – who had never struck her as a powerless wife – felt the need to hide money. Men of course owned everything and a smart woman always had some cash tucked away that her husband didn't know about.

She herself, who kept the books for the dressmaking business, had been skimming money off since the business was established. She never wanted to be in the same position her father had, with nothing left at all. Sarah though didn't really trust banks, so when she went to San Francisco she would convert the money into gold coins. They were hidden in a box, at the back of her drawer where she kept her female rags. She knew that Heath would never look in there, which is why she'd chosen it in the first place.

Her mind came back to the present, as she realized that the money now belonged to Priscilla, since she'd inherited everything from her sister. Sarah's eyes narrowed as she thought about Priscilla and the inheritance. Priscilla had given it all – and there was a lot of all – away to a bunch of orphans. The thought caused a grimace to come on her face, as she recalled yesterday.

They, she and Heath, along with Nick and Priscilla, had gone out to the Christian Brothers orphanage, northwest of Denver. It turned out to be a dairy farm and everyone but Sarah had enjoyed the day. Heath and Nick had spent time with the boys, as well as looking over the farm. Priscilla had spent her time with the Brothers, and playing with the children. For Sarah, who hated the country, and felt awkward around both clergy and children the day had been agony for her. She'd been force to pretend she was having a good time, especially since Heath kept on trying to include her in various activities.

No, Sarah mused to herself now; those orphans didn't need any more money. She knew that if she turned this money over to Priscilla, her sister-in-law would give it to the brats. Sarah smiled as she decided on a different course of action. There was enough money in the oilskin bag to set her up in style, if she ever decided to go it alone.

No more having to worry about the business failing, or having to rely on Heath – yes, he would support her but she would be stuck in their house all by herself. When Sarah had first heard about Priscilla giving all the money away she'd be horrified at the fact. Priscilla had inherited enough in her own right to be equal of the Barkley's, and Sarah couldn't fathom how someone would want to give up that standing. Sarah enjoyed a silent evil chuckle at the idea of Nick having to kowtow to Priscilla, but it didn't last.

Priscilla probably didn't want the money because of Nick and Hester's previous engagement. Sarah knew how she would feel about a woman if they'd been engaged to Heath; maybe Priscilla didn't feel as forgiving to her sister as she let on. Maybe Priscilla was enjoying the idea of giving the money away to some stupid charity. Therefore, did it really matter if the money went to a charity or Sarah?

Her glee at the idea of having the stash all to herself was soon dashed though, as she tried to figure out how to get it out of the house without her sister-in-law knowing. Sarah then remembered her first thought on opening the armoire, and with a satisfied smile left the room, after putting the contents back in the hat box and closing it up.

"Priscilla I -." Sarah entered the room where the guard downstairs had said her sister-in-law was, and was rendered speechless. The room was huge, with a gilt frame bed that rose to a gold crown at the top. Yards of white satin with gold trim flowed from the crown canopy; the same fabric was echoed at the windows. The furniture was as gilded as the bed, upholstered in more of the white satin. It was sumptuous and more regal than anything Sarah had ever seen; it was also very out of place in a Denver townhome. "Is this a queen's room?" She asked haltingly, her eyes darting around quickly; to make sure she didn't miss anything.

"Hester always thought she was the queen of everything, and this was her room, so I guess." Priscilla looked up from the desk where she was sorting through papers. "So yes, this is a queen's room." Her eyes danced with laughter; even as a wry expression crossed her face.

"My. It is something." Sarah wasn't sure what to say, but had no problem seeing Hester in this setting. She then remembered why she'd come in here, and hoped it would all go as planned. However, before she could launch into her planned spiel Priscilla stood up, holding two leather bound journals in her hands.

"Sarah, I know we talked about lunch, but I'm really tired. Would you mind if I beg off and go back to the hotel?" Her sister-in-law's eyes looked tired, and her skin pallor was even paler than earlier that morning.

"Not at all Priscilla; the altitude takes a great deal out of a person." She rushed to reassure her sister-in-law, giving her a plausible excuse. Sarah was happy to do it, because Priscilla leaving early would solve her dilemma, of the hat box. "I was going to say that I didn't find anything at all, but it looks like you did?" The journals in Priscilla's hands intrigued her; even as Sarah noted that they were different looking than the one upstairs.

"Oh, these are Hester's entertaining records. She kept track of every party she hosted, the theme, food served, and guests. Hester was an amazing hostess, and I thought I would take them for reference, in case I need some ideas." Priscilla answered, and Sarah recalled her mother had done the same thing, back before their world turned upside down. It came to her that she'd never entertained in her house, and probably couldn't do it credibly on her own. The idea of spending so much time on place settings and centerpieces held no appeal for her, but Sarah was careful not to say that out loud.

"Priscilla, I left my pelisse upstairs. If you want to go ahead, I'll go get my jacket, and then I need to run to the apothecary. I'm all out of the cream I use on my face." She decided though, to be on the safe side she would go to the apothecary around the corner from the hotel, and purchase some cream.

"Thank you." Priscilla looked relieved "I know you wanted lunch, but maybe another day?" It gratified her that she was making the other woman happy, even as she was furthering her own desires. Sarah knew that the guards would not think it odd if she walked out of the house in ten minutes, with a hat box. Priscilla, already leaving with the leather books would just help her plan.

Once Priscilla was gone, she waited several more minutes before heading downstairs, the hat box in her hand. She asked the guard to hail a taxi for her, explaining she had shopping to do, and; women all the time took hats to their dressmaker. The guard bowed with pleasure and Sarah tipped him nicely, which was very out of character for her. She hated how servants always had their hand out, wanting her coins, but now, as she felt the weight of the hatbox, Sarah could be generous.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: This Chapter has two versions – one for Fanfiction and one for the Big Valley Writing Desk. This is the Fanfiction version with explicit and mature content.**_

 _ **Chapter Eleven**_

Priscilla sat exhaustedly against the cold leather seat of the hansom cab; not that she cared about the temperature because she was just glad to lay her head back. The waves of nausea, which she'd thought had abated with the ginger tea earlier that morning had started to come back just half an hour ago. Her original plan had been to do Hester's house one afternoon, but as she looked over their schedule Priscilla realized that it would need to be a morning.

She had picked this day, because they had nothing scheduled until the Tabor's grand ball, later that evening. Priscilla knew that she would need to rest all afternoon, to make it through the dance and late supper. The schedule in Denver had turned out to be more grueling than she'd thought, starting with Sarah Bernhardt's performance the night they arrived. It had all been great fun though, even as she'd struggled with the personal issues of her being with child, and of course Hester's lingering ghost.

It had taken her aback at how quickly she and Nick had conceived a babe; Priscilla recalled her grandmother mentioning that her parents had been married for several years before she was born. She had been awestruck, but Nick – well Nick had been over the moon. His joy only intensified her feeling of contentment and excitement at the miracle they had created. The fly in the ointment, and it was a small fly, was the timing of it and everything else.

When Priscilla had come into the parlor of the suite she'd been surprised to see Sarah there. Her presence only added another complication to a morning that was not in Priscilla's plans at all. Heath and Nick had talked to her, after their luncheon at the Mining Exchange Club. She had listened to Heath's suspicions about Hester, but had been more intrigued at his request not to bring Sarah into the matter. Based on the happenings that morning, with the police, after the night before, Priscilla was sure there was more going on than what Heath was telling her.

The request had bothered her, because experience had shown her that sweeping things under the rug only made the problem worse in the long run. That there was a problem was apparent, at least in her mind from what Heath was requesting. Priscilla though, as she'd recalled Sarah's hysterical outburst, couldn't blame her brother-in-law for holding back from his wife, even as she privately disagreed.

Nick probably knew a great deal about what was going on; on the drive back from the Opera House she'd started to ask Heath about Logan Dawes. Her husband had moved his hand to her knee, and squeezed gently, as his hazel eyes shot a cautionary look. Priscilla understood that a change of subject was needed, which she gladly supplied. Now she said a silent prayer of thanks that Heath had Nick, to support him with what he was going through.

The hansom cab brought her to the front portico of the Queen Hotel and the livered doorman was quick to help her out. Priscilla walked across the lavishly appointed lobby, not registering any of the décor. The brass elevator took her to the top floor, where she walked quickly into their suite. She paused and took in how cool and quiet it was, with a fresh breeze flowing from the half open windows.

October in Denver was the true definition of Indian summer – sunny during the day, with a cool breeze, and refreshingly bracing at night. Priscilla was looking forward to Georgetown, hoping they weren't too late to see the aspen trees. The quaking leaves, a brilliant gold, were an amazing sight to behold, and the sound of the wind rustling through them was pleasant to hear.

Priscilla walked quickly across the suite to the room she shared with Nick, and shut the door. It took her no time to get out of her dress, silk stockings, bow-trimmed garters, and corset, dropping them to the floor with an abandon that would have shocked her grandmother. However Priscilla was almost dizzy and feeling close to throwing up, so she didn't care. It took a little more time to remove her hat, and unpin her hair, but she didn't have the strength or inclination to brush it out. Instead it fell in heavy, curly waves around her body, and Priscilla rejoiced in the lack of pressure on her scalp.

The bed – a lavish four poster with soft sheets and a silk covering beckoned; Priscilla happily slipped under the covers, as she nestled against Nick's pillow. His scent filled her nostrils, helping to calm the churning of her stomach. She sighed with release, as sleep over took her, letting her forget her worries with Hester, Heath, and Sarah.

Several hours later Priscilla stirred and was instantly aware of Nick against her; they were spooned together tightly. She discerned that he only had his drawers on, as his skin was warm against hers. Priscilla stretched contentedly against her husband's body, making a slight murmur sound of pleasure.

His body moved in response to hers, and she felt his lips start to lay butterfly kisses on her neck. Those wickedly light kisses moved down to her breasts, and Priscilla found herself turning to face him without a second thought.

"Well this is a nice surprise." She murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I thought you would still be at the auction." His skin was smooth, and she let her hands stroke his back.

"Ha! Not that much to see; it would take two of the cows from here to equal one of the cows from California." Nick snorted in reply, and she giggled at his statement.

"And of course the Barkley cows are the best in the state. Pray tell did you share you sentiments with your hosts?" Priscilla knew that the brothers' had been invited by a group of men who owned the largest ranches in the state. The day had been set up to include lunch and a private box to view the auction from, which was held at the arena next to the stockyards.

"No, I was good. But I did find several perspective buyers for offspring from Prince Oxford III." He smiled in response to her giggled observation. Nick was fully aware of his bias, but also knew that Priscilla understood his pride, and would back him up if anyone questioned him about it in public. It was a private joke between them, one of many that they shared. "How did the morning go? Are you all right?" He rose up on his elbow, to look at her with concern in his hazel eyes.

"I am doing better now, but I started to tire out before lunch." She was honest with Nick, appreciating his concern. Priscilla then continued on, to reassure him "However, it was for the best I did it today, because I can take it easy the rest of the day." Nick responded by pulling her close and gently kissing her cheek.

"Did you find anything?" There was an underlying fissure of concern in his statement, which she picked up on. Priscilla was glad that he had broached the subject first, as it would make easier to share her opinion on the matter.

"The most interesting were Hester's entertaining notebooks." She answered and went on to explain how women kept track of what parties they gave, and the details that went into planning the affairs. Priscilla saw that Nick nodded in agreement; his mother kept the same kind of notebooks. "I can tell you all the affairs and scandals that have happened for the last three years in Denver society. Just to be safe I brought them back with me, because I didn't want them to fall into the wrong hands."

"So nothing about Hester's nefarious activities? Or anything else?" Nick moved to sit up, pushing the pillows against the headboard. Priscilla followed suit, and liked how he was careful to make sure she had enough support. He then put his arms back around her shoulders, and pulled her into his chest, which she nestled happily against.

"No, nothing like that at all!" She declared with more vehemence than she meant to; realizing how she was sounding she took a deep breath. "Nick, I know that Heath has good instincts, and he was a lawman which I respect. However, I am wondering if he is maybe over reacting?" The hesitation in her voice was apparent, but she knew how close Nick was to his brother.

"Sissi, why do you say that?" Nick gave her a direct look, which implied that he was willing to hear what she had to say. Priscilla had wondered if he would shut her down right away, because it was Heath she was talking about. She knew how protective Nick was of Heath, especially when someone questioned Heath's judgement.

"I am concerned that Heath is taking a string of unfortunate events and making more out of them than needs to be." Priscilla moved to look up at Nick; the covers slipped from her chest showing the thin silk chemise trimmed and tied in a bow with raspberry silk ribbon. She didn't realize it, but the dark pink contrasted prettily against her creamy skin, as the thin garment left almost nothing to the imagination. Nick indicated for her to go on, even as she noticed him looking with pleasure at her breasts.

"Yes, Hester's house was broken into, but it was an empty house. There has always been a problem with vacant homes, on Capitol Hill, being broken into. As far as the train station, Nick you saw how crowded the platform was!" She sat up straight as she made her statement. "Roland White told us what a safety hazard the place." At that comment Priscilla saw that Nick was going to reply, but she went on before he could.

"You don't like him, and I don't trust him. However, that evening at the Opera House, I talked to several people, who'd heard about the incident. Did you know that over twenty people have been killed at the station this year? In the same circumstances as Heath almost was?" Priscilla tossed her head, causing her wavy, golden hair to move like a lion's mane.

"Heath separated himself from us – I don't know why – and then those luggage carts came along. Maybe one of them bumped him, and it felt like he was being pushed. He does have the tendency to go off by himself, after all." She had noticed how her brother-in-law could distance himself from a group faster than one could blink.

"And then we have his old friend killed in the park." Priscilla wasn't ready to be done yet, even as she could see that Nick wanted to offer his rebuttal. "Maybe that was just a mugging gone badly. Let's say that Logan comes to the hotel to meet with Heath, as he'd requested. Logan than realizes it is too early, so he decides to go the park, to wait for an hour or so. Some thug sees a rich man, in an expensive coat, alone and decides to rob him. He kills him, but before he can take the coat, the constable comes along. Doesn't this sound more likely than some scheme Hester might have been involved in?"

"When you present it like that my dear, I have to agree that your scenario makes a great deal more sense." Nick sighed with exasperation, and Priscilla knew he didn't like having to make the admission. "However, there is a bigger problem facing Heath with all this; the police think he killed Logan because of a secret from his past. Heath is not inclined to share his past history with Logan, so the detectives are assuming they are right." His tone of voice made it clear what he thought of Heath's behavior.

"My brother doesn't want to share his past with strangers, nor does he want to admit that the reason he was out that early in the morning was because of a fight with his wife." Nick finished his story, and it was now Priscilla's turn to sigh. "Did Sarah say anything to you, after you took her away?"

"Once she calmed down Sarah did say that _Heath's past was coming back to bite her again_ " Priscilla tilted her head, as she tried to remember her sister-in-law's exact words "and _he never tells me anything but doesn't understand why I get upset about it_. She then fell asleep; I'm sure she was exhausted." Priscilla was curious about what Heath's past with Logan was, based on his reaction at seeing the man. Her brother-in-law had led the kind of life you usually only read about in books.

"Nicholas, Heath could be painting himself into a very bad corner, if the police consider him a suspect." From what Priscilla had seen of the two detectives, they looked like men on a mission. She hoped that he would persuade Heath to level with the police, if nothing else.

"Well I can't say I blame Sarah for how she is feeling." Nick changed the subject, which Priscilla noted in her mind. "I was annoyed with her about her reaction and behavior at Audra's and our wedding. However, I don't blame her for feeling frustrated with Heath right now." The last sentence was delivered with a snort, which caused Priscilla to twitch her nose.

"When I arrived in the Valley, Heath and Sarah were already engaged." Priscilla shifted her body so one of her legs was resting lightly against his; she felt him move just enough so her thigh was closer to his manhood which gratified her. She though forced herself not to respond, wanting to get her questions answered. It had always puzzled her that Heath was building a house for Sarah on the ranch, even as she'd no idea on country life. That had been clear when Sarah had let Priscilla design her formal and kitchen gardens.

"Had they known each other long? Was it an easy courtship?" Priscilla queried kindly; having been raised in a parsonage she'd seen a great deal. The quick to the altar brides, quarrelsome couples, forced grooms, and family drama. After one such ceremony Priscilla had asked her grandfather how he felt about performing the ceremony. He had told her that the wedding didn't always portend the marriage - it was what the couple did once they were on their own.

"Heath had been seeing someone very seriously; we all liked her and it was clear they were in love. However, she was Irish Catholic and there were issues with family and religion." Nick stated, and went on to tell her that his family was fine with the relationship, and the girl's uncle was in favor of it also. However, most of the other members of the Irish settlement were against it, and brought pressure on the girl.

"The young lady, in addition to being worried about leaving her family, was also concerned about how she would be received in our social circle, because of her background and faith. The upshot was that she broke off the relationship, which devastated Heath." Nick's eyes took on a faraway look, and Priscilla knew he was remembering that time and his brother's ache. "Heath actually left the valley for over three months, ostensibly to go oversee our mines in Mexico, but we all knew the real reason."

"Heath had been back for several months when Sarah came to town, and she was the first girl he'd looked at in all that time. She seemed sweet, gentle, and scared; Heath does like to take in strays and I thought they would be good for each other." Nick shook his head, and sighed. "There was also the matter of her father, and the scandal of the financial debacle. I put her reticence about the courtship down to that, and encouraged Heath to keep after her." That Nick was second guessing himself was clear to Priscilla.

"You know perfectly well that Heath doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, even if the suggestion comes from you. He was in love with Sarah and pursued her while you provided a nice cheering section." She reassured Nick, and saw that he was listening to what she was saying. "I'm sure he turned on the well-known Barkley charm." Priscilla reached up and nuzzled against his neck, before lightly kissing his lips.

"No, you didn't make Heath marry Sarah – they did that on their own." She gave Nick a conspiratorial smile, as she pulled back from him, to look him in the eye. "Whatever is going on now has nothing to do with you. I think it is rather the issue that Heath and Sarah are two sides of the same coin." She could tell that he was confused, so Priscilla tried to explain her statement.

"Both Heath and Sarah were deceived by their fathers. Yes, with your father it wasn't of his doing, but the damage was done the same." She wanted Nick to understand the underlying problem, not just the actions. "Sarah's father's deceit was implicit and public, which was more damaging to her. The end result is that both have trust issues with people." Priscilla declared, and Nick nodded his head in agreement.

"Heath won't open up unless he fully trusts the person, and _they trust him_. Sarah though, will not trust someone until she knows _everything about them_." She had changed the pitch of her voice twice, to convey deeper meaning. "They each want what the other person can't give them. It will take a leap of faith to change the circumstances, if it changes at all." Priscilla leaned back against the pillows and waited for Nick to reply.

Nick thought for a moment about what Priscilla had just said, and could see the truth of her statement. He also took into account her question of Heath and Sarah's courtship; it gave him pause. Heath was his brother, and by now Nick would stand by him no matter what happened. Talking with Priscilla though, about the timeline of Heath, Sharon, and Sarah, he wondered if maybe Sarah wasn't the only wounded party in the relationship.

"I think we have discussed Heath and Sarah enough my dear" Nick wanted to get off the subject of his brother, and focus on Priscilla with her golden curls falling over her creamy shoulders. Her bosom was filling out her silk chemise, the breast pushing against the raspberry silk bow holding the gossamer garment closed.

Nick let his fingers move from her neck, to the bow, which he pulled to undo, revealing her breasts, which were lush and enticing. Just as he went to reach for one of the tempting creamy orbs, Priscilla moved quickly and Nick was surprised to find that she was straddling him. He looked up and saw a playful expression on her face, as she let her fingers trace patterns on her chest.

"Nicky, I think you want to ravish me, right?" Priscilla inquired with a saucy grin, and Nick started to put his hands around her waist. She took them in hers though, before he could get to her waist. "Did you lock the door?" Nick had in fact locked the door, when he first entered the room. It had been exciting to see Sissi there in bed, and he had applauded his judgement to leave the auction early. She had been the reason he left, hoping to get some time alone with her. Heath had stayed, but Nick didn't want Sarah bursting in to bother them.

"Yes, I locked the door." He was all set to say something else but Priscilla moved her fingers to his lips.

"Exactly how much time do we have, before we" she paused, and puckered her brows "you never did tell me where we're eating supper before the ball." Priscilla stated, as she looked over at the clock which registered almost four o'clock. "I need to start getting ready!" She started to move away from him, which freed his hands; Nick quickly had them around her waist.

"We are dining here in our suite, privately." Nick gave her a wolfish grin. "I have not had dinner alone with you since we left Stockton. This way we can have time together and you can eat a good meal before you get all done up." He not only wanted time alone with her, but knew that once she was dressed she wouldn't be able to eat that much. Nick had been concerned several times the whole week, about how pale and tired Sissi would get.

"Really, you arranged it? Oh Nick." She looked at him with happiness, even as her blue eyes started to fill with tears. "I can't believe how easy I cry lately! Thank you so much. I love you." Priscilla reached down to kiss him, and he used the opportunity to roll her over, so he was above her.

"That was very clever, Nicholas." She laughed, as she put her hands around his neck, pulling him close as her body moved against his. He felt what she was doing, and moaned with pleasure and anticipation.

"Sissi I love you too." Nick's voice was husky; as he went to give her a deep passionate kiss, before moving on to kiss all the way from her breasts down her femaleness. Later her cry of pleasure brought one forth from him, before they nestled together contentedly.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: For a visual on Adam Cohen, Google Jeremy Piven as Mr. Selfridge, and then subtract five-ten years.**_

 _ **Author's Second Note: The Story of Sleeping Beauty had existed in Europe since the Seventeenth Century. The Brothers Grimm copied the story from an orally transmitted version of French folklore that was first written down in 1697 by Charles Perrault.**_

 _ **Chapter Twelve**_

Sarah took advantage of a break in the conversation to excuse herself, with the need to freshen up. She wondered why she'd even bothered about waiting for a break in the conversation, because the women didn't even notice her. They were all too busy talking about some baby deer up in Leadville; she knew enough to know that it was one of the gold mining towns, but couldn't understand the fascination with the deer. It didn't help that all the remarks were directed over her head in a low voice, so Sarah couldn't hear the whole conversation.

She and Heath had dined with the Tabor's, as a precursor to their grand ball. Heath had been gratified to receive the invitation, as it would give him the chance to talk to Horace Tabor one on one. Sarah had wondered where Priscilla was, even as she felt a thrill of pleasure, about what she'd taken from Hester's house earlier that day. Finally she had financial security in her own right; something she'd never experienced before, even at the height of her father's success.

The dinner had been stressful, since Sarah knew that so far she'd not made a good impression on Denver society. Tonight was important to Heath, so she'd chosen her dress with care, a pale pink watered silk with cream colored Chantilly lace decorated with pale pink silk roses and seed pearls. The lace was soft and fluttery as she moved, and provided a perfect frame for her wedding pearls around her neck. It was a dress her mother had picked out, all feminine and delicate. It had never been a favorite of Sarah's, but knew that Heath would admire the frock.

Heath and she were the youngest couple at the dinner of sixteen, but the meal had been endurable even as the ten courses had been too long and too much food. After though, when the men went off for brandy and cigars she was left with seven women old enough to be her mother or grandmother. They all wore dark colored silk ball gowns, and magnificent parues of precious stones and diamonds.

The ladies all barely gave her a nod of recognition, as they gathered around Augusta Tabor, who was clearly the queen. Normally Sarah would be relieved not to be the center of attention, but now she wondered if it was a snub of Heath. That Horace and Augusta Tabor were major players in Denver was clear, and Sarah felt like she was in over her head with this social outing.

Leaving the Drawing Room, she headed into the main hall and turned right, hoping to find some place quiet. Sarah ran into a paneled wall with gilt trim and some ghastly tapestry of a wild boar being slaughtered with spears. Over to the left she saw a red velvet curtain and moved it aside, hoping that it would lead to an alcove or a window. Instead she saw a small staircase, set into the wall, and not caring where it led she climbed it quickly.

When she reached the top she stepped into a sitting room of sorts, a minstrel's gallery that over looked the ballroom. Sarah looked down and saw the servants setting up, as the orchestra members were arranging chairs. She turned from the balcony to look at the room, heavily decorated with red velvet and more tapestries depicting hunting scenes.

Each one depicted a grand hunt and killing of various wild animals; she discerned that each work was first rate. The quality of the weaving and fabric were clearly expensive; the subject matter though more suitable for a man's library than a public area. Sarah wondered if Horace had bought them and told Augusta to display them. As she thought about Augusta though, maybe she had bought the tasteless but expensive tapestries.

In the far corner was a chaise lounge, upholstered in red velvet and decorated with several pillows of silk and satin. Sarah had no desire to go back to the ladies, and sure that Heath would be a while talking to Horace, moved to the chaise. She stretched out against the back and the cushions, not caring that she was crushing the bustle of her dress. For the first time since she'd found the money she relaxed and fell asleep.

"Well now I never expected to find Sleeping Beauty at the Tabor Mansion." A man's deep timbre voice woke Sarah up with a start, and she sat up quickly not caring that the movement pulled her decollate low. She also didn't know that her hair was softly mussed, and that, along with the neckline skimming the tops of the rosy tips of her breasts made her look incredibly desirable.

"Oh, ah I." Sarah was aghast that she'd been caught sleeping, even as she noticed the desire in the man's sea green eyes. He was medium built, similar to Heath, but with dark hair and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. His clothes were finely tailored; she was sure they were from London or Europe and he wore them with an assurance that was palatable.

It was his eyes though that really captured her attention. They were large and luminous – the kind of eyes that hid nothing – and right now all they showed was desire and lust. Sarah tried to recall the last time she'd been looked at in that way; her husband looked at her with love and kindness but she'd never seen open emotion in his eyes like she was seeing in this man's. A person would know everything this man was experiencing, with nothing hidden.

"Oh, please don't be embarrassed. I completely sympathize with anyone who wants to fall asleep at the Tabor's." His reassurance was delivered in a jesting tone, and Sarah thought it nice not to be scolded or made to feel bad for what she'd done. As she moved to sit up Sarah noticed how far down the gown's neckline had dipped. Even as she quickly pulled the garment up Sarah was aware that the man was following her actions with his eyes.

"What do you know about the Tabor's? And who are you?" Sarah had discovered that the best defense was a strong offense, and she didn't like how this man was looking at her. She was also bothered that his bold stare was arousing emotions in her that she shouldn't be feeling. However before she could give him a chance to respond she heard music and the butler's voice coming from the ball room.

Not caring about the state of her dress or hair she rushed over to the carved railing, to look at the scene below. The ball room was almost full, even as people were still coming down the stairs, the livered butler announcing their names in a loud stentorian voice.

"The ball has started?" Sarah felt panic over take her, as she realized how long she must have slept. She was also concerned about Heath, and what he must be thinking of her being gone.

"Over three quarters of an hour ago, but people will still be arriving for another half hour or so. There were numerous supper parties before, so the arrival time is generous." The man answered as his eyes roamed up and down her body, almost caressing her form. "Did you have the unfortunate fate of dining with the Tabor's?" His smile was knowing, even as it made his eyes crinkle at the corners, in jest. Sarah had to wonder at how he could read her so easily, even as she seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Why do you say unfortunate?" Sarah wasn't ready to give this way too good looking and self-assured man the satisfaction of being right. He regarded her once again, with eyes that were undressing her, making her breath come hot and fast.

"Augusta's idea of good conversation to tell everyone that she was related to President Franklin Pierce while Horace only cares about politics and his interests in Leadville." He smirked as he made the statement, making her wonder yet again about the Leadville reference. "So did you make it to the main course before Franklin came up? Or during the soup?" The man questioned in an amused tone; it was so different to talk to a man who wasn't serious all the time.

"Yes my husband and I had dinner with the Tabor's." She felt the need, not sure why, to establish that she had a husband; even if she didn't know where he was. Before she could say anything more she heard the butler announce a name that caused her to rush back to the railing of the minstrels' gallery. _Mr. & Mrs. Nicholas Barkley_

Sarah watched Priscilla and Nick come down the grand staircase; her brother-in-law, in black-tie walked with a commanding air to him. He was clearly a man in full, knowing his worth and importance in the world. However, it was her sister-in-law who captured and held her attention, Priscilla's hand tucked in Nick's elbow.

Priscilla wore a pale blue silk dress, embroidered with gold thread and ornamented with white lace. The gown showcased the jewels that adorned her body. A sapphire and diamond necklace cascaded over her neck and front of her gown. An elaborate stomacher brooch caught up, in the front, the over skirt that was bustled back. The sapphires and diamonds – all set in the same rosette pattern – graced the bracelets that covered Priscilla's white kid gloves, as well as her earrings and hair pins.

She had seen those jewels before in a painting, but had not thought they really existed. It surprised her that not only were they real, but Priscilla had been given them to wear. It didn't help that her sister-in-law's dark gold hair and blue eyes were beautifully accented by the dazzling deep blue stones. Her heart constricted, and her shoulders sagged as she watched Priscilla walk down the grand staircase with a social assurance that matched Nick's.

"Are you all right?" He came up next to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. Sarah started to stiffen but then realized that there was only tenderness in his touch. There was so much she wished she could share with him; he would understand she was sure. However she was a married woman and needed to behave accordingly.

"Yes, I am fine." Sarah moved away from the man, even as she kept on watching Priscilla and Nick sashay their way through the ballroom. Her sister-in-law's social assurance would make Sarah's mother smile with approval. Further, Sarah noted how Nick stayed close to Priscilla, carefully escorting her through the receiving line. Nick then flagged a waiter down and procured two glasses of champagne, one of which he handed to Priscilla; they toasted each other with a loving look before drinking.

Her thoughts were broken into by the voice – she'd never heard a voice that was deep but melodious at the same time. It was like a caress, Sarah admitted to herself, even as it was a caress she should not appreciate or want.

"Well I would disagree with you about that statement, and clearly there is something about that couple that doesn't sit well with you. Would you like to talk about it?" The man led her over to a brocaded covered armchair that he helped her sit down on. He then sat down on the other arm chair, with just a small table between them. "I think it would help if I introduce myself – Adam Cohen. I own the Riverpoint Department Store and know a great deal about women and also how to keep confidences." He offered his hand, and Sarah took it gingerly, intrigued at his introduction.

"I see you are surprised? Intrigued? Lovely, because I like women who have curiosity and drive; which I think you do." Adam took her hand, clad in a white kid glove, and brought it up to his lips. Sarah could almost swear that she felt the pressure of those lips. "I deal with women all day, and understand what matters to them. A woman who comes shopping for a dress is always looking for more than something to wear. She is looking for hope, promise, a wish fulfilled; I hear a great deal as you can imagine." He smiled with kindness and humor, a combination that she had never encountered before.

Sarah was shocked too, at his expressed sentiment, about what women wanted when they shopped. It was one of the philosophies of her business, and something she always tried to get her mother to understand. That this man – a stranger – shared the same idea was almost too much for her to take in, unsettled as she was. It also came to her though that maybe he could help her understand where she was in her life.

"The couple is my brother-in-law and his wife. She is wearing a set of jewels that I've only seen in a portrait of my mother-in-law and her late husband on the second floor landing of the main house, at the family ranch." Sarah stopped, not sure what to say next, since her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

"Does your mother-in-law not like you? Do you not like her?" Adam was still holding her hand, and he squeezed it gently, causing her to look up at him. Suddenly she was lost in his eyes, which only showed care and concern. Sarah couldn't remember the last time anyone had cared about her feelings, and she felt her defenses starting to crack.

"My husband and I have our own house; my brother-in-law and his wife live with my mother-in-law. My relationship with my mother-in-law in cordial, but not close in nature, as my husband likes to keep space between himself and his family." Sarah couldn't think of any other way to express the situation, with Heath, her, and his family. Heath was happy to go along with his family, provided it met up with what he personally wanted. He never consulted Sarah, just expecting her to fall in with his plans, even as she never knew what they really were.

"Well it sounds to me that you have the better arrangement, having your own house. Living with in-laws is not always pleasant. As far as the jewelry, in my opinion your sister-in-law is too young to wear all that; it overshadows her completely." Adam offered, letting his other hand envelope the one he was already holding.

"I imagine though that your brother-in-law likes to let everyone know just how successful he is, and draping his wife in jewels not only says that, but also lets the other men know that she is all his." Adam's lips – full and generous – twitched with suppressed laughter at his comment. Sarah found herself joining in, without meaning too, because he had accurately summed up Nick's personality.

"You've met my brother-in-law?" She was curious as to how he could know Nick, since the man looked like a complete city dweller. Sarah knew that Heath and Nick had been attending various male only events, but her understanding was that they all related to mining or ranching. Adam Cohen looked like the man who would only care about cows because of the quality of leather they provided.

"No, and I don't need to either. He is rather of a type, slightly on the younger side, and in his case all hat and all cattle." He referenced the saying about fake cowboys, but Sarah nodded her head. Nick was a true cowboy, and had the cattle to back him up.

"What about your sister-in-law is bothering?" Adam switched subjects, and Sarah became aware that he was still holding he hand. It was unseemly, and she gently moved it away, on the pretext of looking in her reticule. His eyes though showed that he knew exactly what she was doing, and why.

"Oh, it is not Priscilla herself. She is kind, sweet, and caring." Sarah rushed to explain, belatedly realizing that she'd come across as jealous of her sister-in-law. "It isn't her per se, but rather how happy she is with her life. She is involved in the ranch, and our community, and everyone adores her. Priscilla has found her calling, and I admire that." She finished, knowing it sounded rather lame, but she'd never articulated these thoughts before. In truth Sarah had not even thought of them until after the conversation in the parlor car on the trip over.

"So it sounds like her life is easy, and she is content?" Adam asked, tilting his head and she noticed how closely he was watching her. He truly wanted to hear what she had to say, and Sarah wished it didn't make her as happy as it did.

"Yes, that is it. She is content." Sarah made the admission in a low voice, not liking the wave of sadness that came over her.

"And you are clearly not content with your life." Adam said it as a statement, not a question. She was all set to refute him, but he spoke before she could. "I can tell that you are not content because that is what you are concentrating in with your sister-in-law. Not her clothes, or jewels; oh yes you mentioned the sapphires but only as what they symbolized – family unity. No, something is not right in your life, even if you don't know what it is." He finished, giving her a knowing look and kind smile.

"Just a little over five years ago my entire world turned upside down and it ruined my life. My mother and I had to start all over again." Sarah found herself telling the story of her father, and almost cried when Adam didn't turn away with horror, to try to blame her for money he'd lost. She'd been set upon several times in St. Louis, before they left, by families who'd been left destitute by what her father had done. It was suddenly so easy to tell Adam of those incidents; events she'd never talked about before.

"My mother and I came west, even as I was still in shock, which lasted for almost three years. I've made decisions during that time that I am now starting to wonder if they were the right ones." She stopped to take a breath, realizing that she'd rushed out her story. Sarah had never shared so much with someone as she was doing with Adam – a man she didn't know, and yet felt a spiritual connection with.

"Did you deal with this all by yourself? Is your mother your only relative?" Adam inquired, as he reached over to take her hands in his. Sarah didn't fight him, just bowed her head in defeat. She went on to explain that her two older brothers, along with her mother's youngest brother had died in the war. Her father had been an only child, and his parents had been older when he'd come into their life.

"The war was a nasty business; I had relatives on both sides and in the end only the Grim Reaper won." He went to express his condolences, and Sarah found his words – or maybe it was his voice – a soothing balm to her fractured heart. His next words though brought the happiness she was starting to feel to an end.

"Have you talked to your husband about all this? I assume he knows about your father?" Adam queried; it surprised Sarah that he brought up her husband, but also admitted that it was to be expected.

"It's complicated." Sarah replied way too quickly, and then wished she could take back her statements. She sat up very straight and removed her hands from his, as she stood up to walk over to the corner, where she'd spied a mirror. Carefully she adjusted the hair pins at the back of her hair to tidy it up, and then adjusted the neckline of her gown. When her mother had completed Sarah had announced that it was too low, but her mother had said that her husband would love to see her in it.

Sarah was aware that Adam had stood up, as she did, but had stayed by the chair. Her hands shook slightly as she adjusted her hair and dress, knowing he was watching her, even if it was only her back. Sarah was horrified that she'd revealed so much about her life and marriage to this man who was really a stranger, even if her heart was saying that Adam wasn't that at all.

"So your husband was one of those decisions you are now questioning?" Adam asked when she finally turned to face him. Sarah knew that her eyes widened with fear, as it was clear this man could read her like a book. A married woman was supposed to stand by her husband no matter what, and Sarah knew that she had not done Heath that courtesy.

"Don't worry I'm not going to probe any further. Just be aware that you are not the only woman to wonder if you accepted the right proposal." Adam came over to her and bowed, holding out his arm for her take. "I think we need to go down the ballroom, where I will introduce you to some people who are much better companions than Augusta's dinner guests. I also look forward to you introducing me to your husband. A man who has the good taste and sense to marry a woman like you is one I want to know."

Sarah was relieved that Adam wasn't going to ask any more questions, so she let him lead her down to the ballroom. He procured glasses of champagne for them, and while Sarah had not drunk any of the wines with dinner, she was grateful for the golden liquid. Maybe it would help wash away the guilt she was feeling, at what she'd revealed about Heath and his family. Adam introduced her to a number of young couples, none of which noted or commented on her last name. They were fun and easy to talk to, which was a change from society in California

Instead she was just a young matron married to a man who could afford the trappings of society. She knew that if her father had not done what he'd had, her life would be this easy and pleasant. Another thought, unbidden, then came to her, that maybe the evening was easy and pleasant because of Adam? He was always by her side, and made her feel taken care of; he bantered with everyone in a carefree way and made it a point to introduce her to anyone he talked with. Her husband's arrival was a grateful reprieve from where her mind was dwelling.

Heath found her after about ten minutes, putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. They normally didn't go in for public displays of affection, but Sarah was feeling guilty about her confidences with Adam, so she went along. It surprised her, but pleased her to see how well Heath and Adam got along, once they'd been introduced.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, but Sarah noted how light hearted Heath was, as he enjoyed the company. She realized that since they'd come to Denver - and even before – Heath had done nothing but work on the trust and his mining reform. It had been serious work, and Priscilla's comment about Nick wanting to kick up his heels came to her. Heath might not kick up his heels like Nick did, but the man needed fun and relaxation too.

"Well I have to say that meeting you both has made my evening." Adam announced, at the end of the night, as the ball was winding down. They'd all danced, and eaten the scrumptious late supper, enjoying the good music of the orchestra. "I would like to invite you both to come to the store tomorrow, so I can give you a tour. Afterwards we can lunch in my private suite, which offers a panoramic view of the town."

"I wish I could, but I already have something scheduled. However, Sarah" Heath turned to look at her, before going on "you should really take Adam up on his offer. Just so you know, my wife is quite the business woman, and Stockton could use a mercantile establishment such as yours." Sarah heard Heath's response and was gratified that she could see Adam again, even as she knew she shouldn't be so happy.

Sarah agreed to meet Adam the next morning, with Heath's approval, before they left the Tabor house, to head back to the hotel. Heath confided that Horace was open to improvements in the mines, and thanked her for being so willing to dine with the Tabor's. Sarah listened to Heath's please comments and knew that he'd achieved what he'd wanted out of the evening. For her part Sarah didn't want to dwell on what she'd taken away from the evening.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The black clad minister intoned the words, bowing his head as he did so. Heath watched the solid oak coffin with the polished brass fittings being lowered into the ground, as the Blessing was said. Once he'd found out that Logan's body was going to be released by the coroner, Heath had intervened, wanting his friend not to end up in a potter's field. Instead he had taken charge of the body, and with the help of a local mortician, arranged a proper burial and service.

The Riverside Cemetery had been founded in 1876, back when Colorado gained statehood. When Heath had been trying to figure out where to bury his old friend, the mortician had offered Riverside. The plot had cottonwood trees on a slight rise, which reminded Heath of East Texas, where Logan was from; where Logan had saved his life.

He had been concerned about the cemetery, remembering that Hester and her husband were buried there also. However, the area Logan in was separated by a row of tall bushes from the mausoleums of the movers and shakers of Denver. Heath wanted to do right by Logan in death, hoping to make up for what he couldn't do when the man was alive.

"It is hard to lose a friend Heath, even if you haven't seen them for a while. I'm sure that Logan is with his family now." Priscilla came up to him and gave him an affectionate hug in sympathy. He had to work hard not to sneeze as the curled black ostrich plumes on her hat tickled his nose. Heath appreciated her mentioning Logan's family, because she had clearly remembered the conversation outside of the Opera House.

"Listen Heath, don't beat yourself up over this; it probably had nothing to do with you." Nick wrapped his arms around him in an expansive gesture, as his middle brother was wont to do. "I know that he held you in high esteem." The words were kind, and Heath nodded, more to make Nick feel better than anything else. It was with relief that his brother said he was going to take Priscilla over to visit the mausoleum of Joseph and Hester.

His original plan for the burial service had not included anyone but the minister and him. Heath had been relieved when last night, after a great evening, Sarah had been invited to spend the morning with Adam Cohen. He'd felt bad about how he'd abandoned her at the Tabor's dinner, but Horace was in a mood to be accommodating. When Heath had found Sarah later, she was with a group of fun young people, and he was glad to see her enjoying herself.

Heath knew his first thought for this trip – that he and Sarah could spend time together – had not happened. Between the work on the mining reform, Logan, and the threats on his life; well Sarah had not received enough of his attention. He knew how hard the social events were for her, so seeing her happy at the Tabor's Grand Ball had cheered him.

Adam Cohen was also a nice surprise, and Heath enjoyed talking with the man in depth. He was more flattered than he wanted to be, that Adam wanted to know about the mining reforms he was pushing for. The man shared that his father-in-law, on the East Coast, owned several garment factories and was dealing with the same labor issues as the mine owners out west. He further confided that he was trying to get his father-in-law to see that by treating the workers better, the output would be higher.

It was with that thought in mind that Heath would have been glad, in other circumstances to accept Adam's invitation, to tour the store and have lunch. However the invite had solved the problem of Sarah and Logan's service. Heath could remember how Sarah had reacted, to Logan, and then the coat which had led to the epic argument that had occurred.

Sarah knew that he'd served in the war, but she had never asked him for details, even as he'd never offered any of his past. Men didn't talk about war with women; wanting to spare them the gritty details of what fighting was really like. He had been careful to keep the knowledge from Leah, not wanting to shock her; it was the same with Sarah.

There was also the matter that if he'd brought up Logan's burial service to Sarah, it could re-open their fight from that night. She had not mentioned the matter since then; Heath didn't want to share his history with Logan, because it involved the war, so he was glad to have her drop the subject. In the end he decided the best course of action was not to have his wife at Logan's service. She had recoiled in horror at the man's appearance at the Opera House, and wouldn't understand why her husband was giving the man a burial.

What he had not counted on was Nick, who always knew what was going on, and could turn up in the most unexpected places at the most unexpected times. It was half past eleven that morning, and Heath, clad in a black suit, was getting ready to leave the hotel suite. He was taken aback to see Nick and Priscilla, both dressed in black mourning outfits coming out of their room.

Nick announced that he'd heard about Logan's funeral and wanted to be present for Heath; he also offered that Priscilla wanted to visit her sister's grave. Heath acquiesced with good grace, secretly pleased that his brother cared enough to want to be with him. As far as his sister-in-law; well she had always been kind and discrete, and being the granddaughter of a clergy man had undoubtedly attended numerous funerals.

Heath brought his mind back to the present, as he watched the coffin being covered up, the dirt carefully smoothed over. Once it was done he reached into his pocket and produced envelopes of cash for each of the diggers, as well as the minister. He bowed his head, and silently said a private prayer for Logan, hoping that he would finally find peace.

Soon he was alone in the corner of the cemetery, and as he looked around he was glad that Logan was resting where he was. The cottonwood trees provided a canopy against the hot sun, even as they were starting to lose their leaves with the coming of winter. Denver was at a high elevation but still experienced the seasons; the trees allowed a buffer against the noise of the city and river. Heath remembered the shade trees of East Texas, which had offered short-lived reprieve against the heavy labor he'd been forced to do.

Looking at the fresh dirt covered mound, Heath felt himself suddenly humbled at how everything had worked out. He'd only survived Carteston because of Logan and his family, and now he was burying the man in soil far removed from his beloved Texas. Heath was overcome by a wave of humbleness and sorrow, and without a second thought knelt down on one knee, in homage to his benefactor.

Finishing his silent prayer, Heath started to rise up when he became aware of the feeling of being watched. Heath turned his head in both directions, before he continued straitening up, at which point he turned around completely. He was surprised – and not pleased – to see the two detectives from the other morning watching him.

Jack Regan and his partner Dale May exchanged a look, before they started walking over to where Heath was standing. They had observed the whole service, a habit of theirs in murder investigations; more often than not the killer couldn't resist attending their victim's funeral. Dale had found out that Heath had paid for the coffin and burial plot, but he and Jack knew that didn't mean anything. More than one murderer of their acquaintance tried to salve their conscious by paying for a lavish funeral.

The detectives had noted the quality of the casket, and the envelopes that Heath Barkley had passed to the diggers and minister. Jack had found it particularly interesting that while Mr. & Mrs. Nick Barkley were present, Mrs. Heath Barkley was nowhere in sight. He recalled the morning in the hotel suite, and how Heath's wife had not known his whereabouts. It had made him wonder about the couple's relationship, and how Sarah Barkley felt about her husband's _old friend_.

"Good Morning Mr. Barkley. That was a fine burial service." Jack walked up to Heath, followed by Dale who nodded in agreement. They shook hands, before Jack went on. "That was very nice of your brother and sister-in-law to come to the service; is your wife feeling all right?" He was very curious as to the response he would receive from that question.

"My wife is fine." Heath's mouth tightened into a thin line, making Jack aware that man didn't like being asked about his wife. That could mean that things weren't fine, or that Heath just wasn't going to say any more than needed to the police. Either way it was another suspicious reaction, one of several that Jack and Dale had noted each time they talked to Heath Barkley.

"Good to hear." Jack, having seen that one of his arrows had hit him, pulled another from his quiver. "Mr. Barkley you've had quite the life; why your exploits were both numerous and rather sketchy in places. Now, Logan on the other hand, his life is an open book, with no missing pages." The detective went on to talk about Logan's life, mentioning East Texas, and the New Mexico Territory.

"Jack, you should tell Mr. Barkley about some of the stories you heard in response to the inquiries that we sent out. The sheriff of Mesa County had some good things to say, but the sheriff in Randolph County, well he stated that if you ever showed up in his jurisdiction again he would castrate you himself." Dale's tone was light, as if they were having a pleasant conservation over drinks. "What kind of things could you have done to have elicited that kind of reaction from a lawman?" The older man narrowed his eyes as he regarded Heath.

"You have also spent a great deal of time in Mexico, and once we get those responses translated – Sargent Cortez is in Pueblo until next week – I am sure that we will have even more fascinating reading." Jack looked over at his partner as if they were sharing a private joke. It was all designed to take Heath down a notch, even as both detectives knew that it would undoubtedly take a great deal to rattle this suspect. However the men knew they had an ace up their sleeves; it was just a question of who would play the card.

"I am glad that crime in Denver is low, so you have time to pursue old history." Heath stated evenly, looking Jack and Dale straight in the eye. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled, tilting his head in response to the detective's comments. The partners would later exchange notes and both give their suspect high points for his response. Jack was the one though that decided to play the ace, wanting to slap the disdainful smile off of Heath Barkley's face.

"Oh Heath if we are talking about old history, shall we discuss Tom Barkley and Strawberry?" Jack stepped forward, bringing him a hair's breadth within reach of the blond man. "Now you are quite the rags to riches story! Do you know Horatio Alger? He could write your life story, if you would want it written. A man like you though, with what you've done to survive; well you probably don't want it all known. Just the perfect reason why someone like Logan Dawes would be a threat to your comfortable life as a Barkley." The detective rocked back on the low heels of his black leather work boots, digging the heels into the ground.

"I think you are rather late to the story, as it has been covered in detail by the California papers. My father is not the only man to have sired a child on the wrong side of the blanket." Heath offered with a cool smile. "History is full of men who acted just like my father did; at the end of day it is all water over the bridge." The blond haired man looked Jack and Dale straight in the eye as he made his declaration.

"Logan and I crossed paths several years ago; we lost touch until the other night, outside of the opera house. I gave him my coat, and asked him to meet me the next morning, so I could arrange a job in Georgetown, where I have some influence. He was killed in the park outside my hotel, wearing my coat, the day after I'd been pushed under an oncoming train." Heath retorted, disdain fully evident in his tone of voice.

"Well about that whole train incident, the railroad personal has no evidence of your supposed accident. I find that interesting, since the railroad officials are very quick to pass any suspicious activities on to the local police force." Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders and exchanging a knowing glance with Dale. In truth he was frustrated that he wasn't able to rattle Heath.

"My understanding is that Union Station is prone to many of those mishaps, having been badly designed. However the railway officials don't want to admit to the numerous accidents that have happened. I remember someone telling me that five – maybe seven – people had been killed at the station." Heath offered, and Jack knew that Heath was right in his facts. The railroad station was badly designed, being rushed to quickly to completion, while trying to satisfy the railroad owners demands.

Dale had watched the exchange between Heath and his partner, noting how their suspect met Jack tit for tat. Jack was one of the best men he'd ever worked with; and Dale had worked with a lot of partners. He'd been a Pinkerton agent until ten years ago, and knew a great deal about bad and good police officers.

Now though he had to admit that Jack had met his match, and Dale had no doubt that Heath Thompson Barkley had been a good lawman; maybe even a better crook and murderer. Dale decided that Jack needed some support, and stepped forward slightly.

"Mr. Barkley your comment about you and Logan crossing paths is something of a curiosity." Dale stated, glancing briefly at Jack, so his partner would know what he was doing. Jack gave him a slight nod, indicating that he was glad to have some help with this suspect. Dale was quick to detect the knowing look in Heath's eyes, as he saw through the whole performance. However he also saw a small glimmer of relief, which led him to confirm that there was more to the story than they had.

"Of course you have just buried your _long lost friend_ " Dale announced in heavy tones before he went on "Or maybe your _worst nightmare_ ; either way it is a sad time since you and Logan were intertwined on some level. As we told you once before, don't leave our jurisdiction because we have several more answers to our inquiries coming in every day. " Dale had seen that pulling back now, with Heath thinking he held the upper hand was the best move.

The reference to further information was designed to rattle Heath, since clearly there was something about his past relationship with Logan that he didn't want known. Dale and Jack suspected that it had to do with the war, but the army records were haphazard and hard to access, even with Dale's Pinkerton connection. In truth they only had circumstantial evidence but both men knew that it could be enough to get an arrest warrant if needed. Dale was glad to see that Jack understood that throwing Heath Barkley in jail now would not help their case, and could hinder prosecution if it came to trial.

Heath had, for his part, had enough of the policemen, being upset that they had intruded on his last time with Logan. The thing that he'd hated about being a lawman was how innocent people could be drawn into the net the authorities needed to throw to solve the case. This time though it was different, and he had the power and status to protect Logan and their past history.

"I would like you to leave now. This is a Holy Place where the departed look for peace, which is something you know nothing about." Heath Barkley stepped back from Jack, giving him and Dale cold condescending looks straight in the eye, before he started to walk away.

However before the detectives could do anything, even as Heath started to turn, a click of a gun, followed by a roar of a bullet rushed toward them. It was followed by five more bullets, which caused Jack and Dale to duck for cover. They noted, even as they were crouched against the ground that Heath had not been fast enough; one bullet knocked his hat off his head while another one went straight to his body, knocking him on his back.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

Nick was standing with Priscilla, at the mausoleum where Joseph and Hester were buried, when he'd heard shots. He had been busy scanning the surrounding area, for any reporters who might be lurking around Hester's grave. Several had tried to accost the couple the other day, but the doorman at the hotel had taken care of the problem.

There was also the fact that he had no interest in paying his respects to the woman who tried to kill his beloved Sissi. She was laying a floral arrangement on her sister's grave; Nick thought a bouquet of bindweed would have been more appropriate for the woman. The sound of the shots caused a knee-jerk reaction in him as he drew his gun and sprinted toward the sound – Logan's grave where he'd left Heath.

He tore through the hedges that separated the grounds, not caring about the damage he was causing. The scene that greeted his eyes caused the breath to catch in his throat. His brother was lying on the ground, his left leg at an odd angle; even worse was the blood that was rapidly soaking the black wool covering his hip. Nick was also taken aback to see the older detective from the other morning, crouching in front of Heath, his pistol cocked and ready to shoot.

"It's clear; not sure where the shooter went, but we need to get this man to a doctor." Just then the younger man, who Nick recalled that his name was Jack, came from the copse of trees. "Mr. Barkley, stay with your brother, and Dale will flag a hansom down so we can get this man to Dr. Cliveden."

Part of Nick wanted to stay with Heath, but another wanted part wanted revenge on the man who'd tried to kill his brother. He was wise enough to admit that the police would know the best doctor for gunshot wounds. However, Nick also knew that he was quick and fast with a gun, and had dealt with his share of bad guys. Even as he was torn between what to do, Priscilla came into the clearing, and ran over to Heath, kneeling down next to him.

"I'm going after the shooter! Sissi, stay with Heath!" He barked, as he rose up and reached for his gun. Nick trusted that she would take care of Heath, and saw that he was right. She reached up her black ruffled skirt to gain access to her white lawn and lace petticoat. Priscilla started to tear strips of the delicate fabric off, making neat piles of bandages. She then tied one strip above the wound in Heath's thigh, and proceeded to use the rest to pack the wound. Nick remembered her saying that she'd spent time in one of the hospitals in Los Angeles, as well as having some medical training at the teaching college.

"I'm coming with you." Nick, sure that Heath was in capable hands, strode to where the younger detective was, pulling out his city gun that had been discretely tucked into the waist band of his pants. The policeman started to protest, but Nick gave him the hard look he'd learned well and the other man acquiesced, albeit with bad grace.

The next half hour was spent covering the area, but all they found was where the shooter had been standing. Several spent rounds – from a common model of Remington revolver – along with an indistinct boot prints was the dismal result. Nick and the two detectives met back at Logan's grave, with nothing to show for their efforts. He took that opportunity to take the men to task, remembering their suspicions about Heath.

"Look, I hope this proves my brother's story, which someone has been trying to kill him since we arrived in Denver." Nick balled his fists to keep from throttling the policemen, as he fumed that the men couldn't see what was really going on. "Why anyone would be shooting in the cemetery, unless they were after my brother!" In truth Nick was frustrated at how the policemen were acting towards Heath.

"Mr. Barkley, for all we know this was a poacher hoping to bag a rabbit for his dinner; wildlife is very common along this part of the Platte River." Jack Regan didn't care for the tone of superiority that Nick Barkley's voice carried. He'd heard once too often, rich men try to dismiss wrongdoings among their family, by assigning blame to some unknown person.

From his point of view, there was something sketchy in Heath Barkley's relationship with Logan Dawes; that was clear because the man couldn't tell the true story to the police. There was his behavior the morning of the murder, which the man's wife and oh so devoted brother knew nothing about. The shooting at the grave could be a hunting accident gone awry; many unemployed men lived along the river.

Nick by now was more worried about Heath, as he recalled the amount of blood that had been coming from his brother's groin. He also saw that trying to argue with the unrelenting policemen would get him nowhere. If only Jarrod was here, Nick thought to himself, he would deal with the police and make them see sense.

"We can discuss this later; right now I need to be with my brother and my wife!" Nick almost snarled, his frustration coming to the top even as he tried to contain the emotion. He noted that Dale stepped up to take charge, hailing a cab to take them to the doctor's office. Dale rode with him on the trip, commenting that Dr. Cliveden was a gifted surgeon, and that Heath would be in good hands.

When they arrived at the doctor's office Nick saw Priscilla right away and rushed over to her, and after pulling her into a tight embrace asked about Heath.

"Dr. Cliveden is just finishing removing the bullet, and things are going fine." Priscilla announced solemnly, reassuring Nick. "Luckily Heath turned just in time so the bullet missed his groin, grazing his hip." She went on to explain that the wound be sewn up, and Heath would be on bed rest for several days, followed by having to walk with a cane.

Nick was glad to hear that, but knew that his brother wasn't going to be happy about the limits on his mobility, especially with the trip to Georgetown. Clearly Heath wasn't going to be able to go examine all the mines he'd wanted to, which meant that Nick would have to take up the slack. That thought caused a cold chill to go up his spine, because he'd been careful to avoid mines since the eagle incident with the Irish revolutionary and the mine cave-in. The experience in the Eastern Canyon, where Hester had tried to kill Priscilla was also at the back of his mind. However, his depressing reverie was broken up by what his wife said next.

"We need to let Sarah know about Heath; where is she?" Priscilla looked at him, as if he was supposed to know the answer. It came to him what Heath had said, when Nick had asked about her whereabouts. Clenching his jaw, he sighed inwardly on how private his brother could be about his personal life.

"Heath only said she was spending the morning with friends." Nick offered, even as he noted that Priscilla saw the irritation in his response. He appreciated her offer to take care of sending a note to the hotel, so he could focus on his brother.

"Sargent Johnson?" Priscilla turned to the uniformed officer standing by the door; somehow Nick was not surprised that she knew the man's name. "Would you please dispatch this message to the Queen City Hotel, care of Mrs. Heath Barkley?" She used one of the doctor's correspondence cards and wrote a short missive. Nick was sure that Priscilla had been careful in the note, for her sister-in-law who was nervous in her reactions.

It was a relief when the doctor's wife, a comfortable middle-age woman with a kind smile brought a tea cart into the waiting room. In addition to a pot of tea, there were sandwiches and small cakes, as well as a bottle of brandy. Nick sighed heavily, realizing that all he could do at this point was wait for the surgery to finish and Sarah to show up. It was the thought of his brother's wife, and her reaction, that caused him to pour a very large glass of the dark amber brandy.

 _Earlier that day at The Riverpoint Department Store_

Sarah looked across the table from Adam, while taking a delicate sip of the light, lemon liqueur that he'd offered after their meal. The lunch was lovely and very French inspired; sautéed duck in orange sauce over a bed of fresh arugula and red lettuce. It was accompanied by rolls, butter, and a fruity white wine from Germany. Sarah normally wasn't much of a wine person, but the way Adam explained how the flavors all worked together made her take several sips, which confirmed his comments.

The whole morning had been wonderful; her best one yet in Denver she could honestly admit. Sarah had been secretly relieved that Heath couldn't come along, as his presence would have changed the whole tone of the meeting. She had taken great care in choosing her outfit; an autumn ensemble of green heather tweed ornamented with olive green satin trim and velvet ribbon. At the back of her mind was the knowledge that she'd not – other than for the Tabor's grand ball – paid the kind of attention to her clothes that she did for visit to the store.

Adam and she talked about the retail business, marketing, and fashions in clothing. She couldn't believe that she'd finally met someone who was on her wavelength, and really understood her feelings along with her ambitions. The store was well lit, clean, and bustling; he took her around to the different departments. Sarah liked how he'd done the floor plan, so a man or woman could get all the pieces they needed, for an outfit or an entire wardrobe. He told her that women were busy, and really didn't want to go to four different places – the dressmaker, milliner, modieste, and shoemaker – to put together their wardrobe.

It was with a chuckle that he offered that men also appreciated the chance shop while showing off their sartorial choices to the women in the store. Sarah was impressed beyond words at his understanding of the clothing business, especially when he offered that his family had their own garment companies. Adam explained how it cut overhead and increased the profit margin; it helped that they were on the east coast and had quick access to the latest trends from Paris and London.

"Adam, thank you for a special experience; the tour of your store; but I've taken up enough of your time." Sarah announced, as she put down the fine etched Bohemian crystal liqueur glass. In truth she could have spent the rest of the day in Adam's company, but had belatedly realized how much of his time she'd taken up. It was now almost half past three, and she'd been at the store – in Adam's company – since ten o'clock that morning. The lunch had taken place in his private dining room, which was on the top floor of the building, next to his office. From the large windows she could see the Platte River and the Rocky Mountain Range.

"Nonsense, the pleasure has been all mine! Do you know how rare it is for me to talk to a fellow business associate?" Adam smiled with pleasure at her, his pale green eyes shining with admiration at her. "I enjoy being able to explore the different ways of meeting our customers' demands. You have a discerning eye and are good at seeing trends in women's clothing." He went on with several other fulsome compliments, which caused Sarah to both blush and preen. It had been a long time since she'd received praise for anything she'd done.

"I have a favor to ask of you Sarah; I hope you won't take it the wrong way." Adam had taken her hand, to help her up from the table. His manners were almost continental, but he performed them with a self-assurance that made it seem natural. "I am going to be in San Francisco after the first of the year. My family's firm is looking at expanding out in California. May I avail myself of your expertise of the market, especially San Francisco?" He went on to explain what he was interested in, offering that his department store could be boon to her dressmaking firm.

"Of course, I would be glad to correspond with you" Sarah paused to reach into her reticule to pull out her calling card. Her hand hesitated for a moment, as to which card she should offer. There were the elegantly engraved cards – black ink in fine script on cream colored vellum – that proclaimed her as Mrs. Heath Barkley, Barkley Ranch of Stockton, California.

She also carried another set of cards, that she'd had made up in San Francisco, for the dressmaking business. They were printed on soft pink vellum paper, the lettering being a French copperplate of dark brown ink, with a scroll work frame of gold foil. The cards had cost a great deal of money, but Sarah had liked the statement they made about the business; she'd taken pleasure in getting Heath to pay for them without him realizing it.

The cards had the benefit of having the address of the dressmaking shop printed on the other side. Sarah understood that as a married woman she should give Adam her personal calling card, so her husband was aware the letters; on the other hand Adam wanted to correspond with her about business. It was with that thought it mind that she proffered the pink vellum calling card.

Adam took it with a delighted smile, complimenting her on the design, even as he gave her his card. Sarah took it gingerly, feeling like she'd been given the best present ever; outwardly though she was careful that all he saw was her putting the card in her reticule before putting her gloves on. She noted that he escorted her out of the store, hailing a hansom for her, tipping the man generously as he did so.

When she arrived at her hotel Sarah entered the lavish lobby, wanting to get upstairs and lay down for a while. The whole morning had affected her on so many levels, and she wanted to be alone to think about the time with Adam. She was almost at the elevator – an elaborate brass cage – when the bell boy flagged her down. The young man, overly dressed in burgundy and gold livery, indicated that the concierge wanted to talk to her.

Sarah looked at the boy as she noticed the sealed envelope he held out for her. She took it, and out of character for her gave the boy a generous tip. Her day with Adam had put her in high spirts, and her world seemed bright and full of possibilities. She took the elevator up to the penthouse suite, wanting to get out of her heavy clothes and tightly laced corset.

She had not even looked at the envelope until she sat down in the suite; right away she recognized Priscilla's hand writing – a perfect script as befitted a teacher. Even as she could hardly catch her breath; she debated undressing before reading the missive and then decided it would be better to see what her sister-in-law was writing about. Opening the envelope she pulled out a note card that bore the name David Edward Cliveden, M.D. and an address on Sherman Street. Sarah quickly scanned the note, which indicated nothing more than Sarah should come to Dr. Cliveden's offices as soon as possible.

Sarah sighed with annoyance and tiredness, as she realized she wouldn't get her nap. A fissure of worry than overtook her, as she wondered why she was supposed to go to a doctor's office? Clearly either Nick or Heath was hurt, which was not good. Throwing off her tiredness and crossness, she left the suite to the elevator.

Luckily it was on the top floor and Sarah stepped in the brass cage, ignoring the attendant who was trying to make conversation with her. Arriving in the lobby she went straight over the bellman's post and requested a hansom to take her to Dr. Clivden's. Whatever was going on Sarah knew that she had to get to the doctor's office.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

The drive to Dr. Cliveden's seemed to take forever, even as it was only three blocks away. His office was located just north of Sherman Street, in a two story building. It was flanked by a lawyer's office, and a trade broker; this was a street of professional businesses. The trees and well-kept yards with finely crafted wrought iron fences gave off a sense of calm, which Sarah noted so belied the churning in her stomach.

The note from Priscilla had fractured the feeling she'd come away from the lunch with Adam – one of almost walking on a cloud. Clearly one of the brothers had been hurt, if a surgeon was involved. Her hope was that Nick was the victim, because Priscilla was sending the note. However, it was a small hope because she knew her husband's propensity for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Sarah recalled everything that had happened since they'd been in Denver, starting with the fall at the train station. Then there was the derelict outside of the Opera House that Heath had known previously; she shuddered as she recalled the police in the hotel suite the following morning. _No_ , she mused, _Heath had been at the center of all the mayhem that had gone on in the city._

With that thought in mind, she almost jumped out of the hansom and rushing through the gate walked quickly up to the door. Not bothering to ring the bell she opened the door and strode past the young man sitting at a desk in the front hall. There was a sign above the door to her right, and Sarah turned to it, figuring that is where she needed to go. It was with a jerky twist that she rotated the crystal door knob to gain access.

Sarah entered the doctor's waiting room, which was soberly and simply furnished in muted tones of blue and brown, and noticed Nick and Priscilla right away. They were both dressed in black funeral clothes, which caused her to almost stop breathing. Fear overtook her as a hard wave of tightness constricted her heart. Heath was dead? How? Her mind went numb, even as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Sarah, don't faint." She heard Priscilla's voice, as her sister-in-law hurried over to help her to a chair. Sarah was vaguely aware of Priscilla asking Nick for something, and then she was being offered a glass of amber liquid. She took it, swallowing without thinking; the drink burned in her throat and mouth.

"Agh, eh." She sputtered, pushing the glass away, and moving to stand up. "What is going on? Where is Heath? Why are you wearing black?" Sarah had her wits about her again, and she wanted to know exactly why they were all at the doctor's office.

"Heath is almost out of surgery." Priscilla answered, and went on to explain about where he'd been shot, and what the doctor had said about the injury.

"But why were you at the cemetery?" Sarah looked at her brother and sister-in-law, sensing that there was more to the story than what Priscilla had relayed.

"Well for Logan Dawes' funeral. You know Heath's old friend?" Nick laid out the details of funeral and how the shooting had happened, after the service.

"Logan Dawes? What funeral?" Sarah felt anger building inside of her, her worry for Heath being overtaken by the knowledge that Heath had kept this information from her. Her lips tightened into a thin line, as her hands balled into tight fists. Her reaction must have been very apparent, because Priscilla moved over to stand next to her.

"Sarah, we only found out about the funeral this morning. Nick was taking me to see Hester and Joseph's mausoleum. We met up with Heath on his way to the cemetery." Priscilla's voice was soothing, and she put her arm around Sarah's shoulders and stroked her softly. It was supposed to be comforting, but Sarah knew better.

She saw through what Priscilla was trying to do, which was deflect blame from Heath. _Oh no, perfect Heath, kind Heath who would never do anything like that. If only everyone knew what he was really like_ Sarah thought to herself. Before she could say anything the doctor, an older man came into the room, and looked around expectantly.

"Mrs. Barkley? Mrs. Heath Barkley?" He asked and Sarah brusquely removed herself from Priscilla's embrace and walked over to where the doctor was standing and introduced herself. The man said that the surgery had gone well, and Heath would be waking up soon; she was welcome to sit by his bed and wait.

"Thank you Doctor. Yes, I will sit by his bed." Sarah moved to follow the man through the door to the surgery he was holding up. She paused, as she turned to look at Nick and Priscilla, raising her chin with ill-concealed disdain. "Please go ahead and leave. I think you've done quite enough. Heath is my husband and I am capable of sitting with him." There was dismissal in her tone and from the surprised looks on the couple's faces it was apparent that they had heard her meaning clearly. Sarah took pleasure in walking through the doorway and hearing the doctor soundly shut the wood panel against the frame.

The doctor showed her to the room where Heath was, and Sarah felt the fear overcome her again, as she saw her husband. Heath was pale, and so still that Sarah had to lean close to see him breath, which reassured her. Sarah was introduced to the doctor's wife, who brought a chair over for her, and offered tea or coffee. She turned them down, and was relieved when they left her alone, after giving her instructions if Heath came to.

Sarah was both scared and intrigued as she looked at her husband, flat on his back, recovering from being shot. She'd heard about all the injuries Heath had incurred; Sarah has seen the scars on his body when they'd been intimate. When she'd tried to ask him about them, Heath had brushed off her questions with gentle kisses and murmurings of _oh it was long ago nothing to concern yourself with et al._

On one level she knew that Heath was just trying to protect her from any more unpleasantness in life. The other side though was that his concern gave him the excuse for keeping his earlier life from her, which left her to be blindsided time and time again. By keeping that information from her, he could keep himself separate from her and their marriage.

It scared her, because she saw the parallel of her parents' marriage; her father took care of everything and her mother had gone along. The end result was her mother being left with nothing, after Wilton's dizzying fall and death. Sarah had sworn that she would never be a silent partner in a marriage, but it came to her with cold shock that her marriage to Heath was that same scenario.

He never shared anything personal, in an attempt to take care of her, but she wondered if there wasn't more to his reticence than a desire to shield her. If Heath didn't share his experiences with her, he wouldn't have to tell her the truth.

Her thought processes saddened her, as she regarded her husband, looking helpless. Sarah then remembered the scene with Priscilla and Nick in the waiting room. Heath wasn't going to die; the doctor had stated that he would be fine, but confined in his movements. A fissure of pleasure overtook her, as she realized that Heath wouldn't be able to go do all the mine inspections he'd planned on. _Served him right_ , Sarah thought, for keeping the funeral of his – God knows who this Logan was – from her.

It came to her, amid her anger and hurt, that Heath would never give her the emotional intimacy that she craved. Sarah saw that no matter what she did – and she'd tried everything from anger, tears, silent treatment and catering to all his needs – Heath was never going to open up to her. The morning she'd spent with Adam Cohen, a man she'd just met the night before, had given her more honest communication than anything she'd received from Heath.

Sarah felt a quiver in her heart, as she realized that she needed to turn over a new leaf in regard to her marriage. Heath had made his feelings about their union – not spoken but his actions on this trip and before with Hester and Maria – were clear to her. Lightness came over her, as she realized that she didn't need to feel guilty about staying at the store, or traveling to San Francisco. No she wasn't home to cook dinner, but she didn't need to bother about that matter anymore, as Heath probably wouldn't make it home in time anyway.

The last bit of guilt, about the issue of not wanting a child and her means of preventing it, also lifted. Heath wanted a marriage, for the outward show of having a marriage; in reality he wanted the window dressing. Well fine, Sarah mused to herself, she could certainly give him that, while lining her pockets and having a discrete social life in San Francisco.

For the first time in a long while there was peace in her heart, as she came to terms with her life. It made it easy to sit by Heath's bedside, and later, when he woke up, she could nod pleasantly at whatever story he wanted to tell her about the cemetery.

Sarah wasn't the only one turning over a new leaf, but in Abner's case it was a physical transition rather than a mental one. He'd been hired to kill Heath Barkley, which was nothing more than a business deal for him. He'd been brought up in a world that only valued strength and will; if you weren't strong enough to survive the streets you were better off dead, that being the general mind set.

Abner had been at the top of his game until Heath; the man seemed to have charmed life. In addition to the train station, the park, and the cemetery, Abner had attempted two other times to kill Heath. Now, he was back at his meager lodging – a bare room its only feature a large window that caught the setting sun.

He took a deep breath and recalled the look of madness in the well-dressed man's eyes; the man who had hired him to kill Heath Barkley. The man had been ready to beat him with his ebony cane even before this last failure. Abner knew exactly who the man was, and what his status was in Denver society. His failure with the well-dressed gentleman would not go unnoted; it came to Abner that his time in Denver was done.

Luckily he'd saved most of the money he'd made, carefully trading the bills for gold coinage. Abner had hallowed out a space in the floorboard of his dwelling, where he stored the coins, being careful to always keep some paper money for quick spending. He now decided that it was time to move on, but wanted to be careful not to raise anyone's suspiciousness.

Abner carefully packed his stash of gold coins into a beaten up leather satchel – the type a dispatch messenger would carry – putting his small toiletry bag on top. That, along with one change of clothing was all he took. He had bought the bag second hand, liking how it could hold more inside than it let on from the outside. To outward appearances he looked like a mid-level clerk carrying business correspondence, which is what he wanted to portray. In truth he had enough money to buy whatever he needed at his final destination.

He went to Union Station and bought a second class to ticket to Cheyenne, with onward passage to Sheridan. Abner carefully muttered to the ticket agent about his boss demanding this last minute trip, to deliver cargo manifests. The ticket agent sympathized with Abner, who was dressed in modest business attire, and upgraded him to first class because he was clearly a hard worker.

In truth Abner wasn't going on to Sheridan, but knew that the ticket agent would provide a solid alibi for him if needed. He didn't put it past his employer – the well-dressed man – to follow him to gain his pound of satisfaction. Abner had heard about the Dakota Territory, and the town of Deadwood, for the last several months. It was a wide open area, where a man with Abner's skills would be well received and employed.

The stage to Deadwood left from Cheyenne twice a week, and Abner was sure that the stage line didn't keep records of passengers. The service was well-established; the only disruption had been during 1876 because of Custer and Sioux; Abner's understanding though was that the 9th and 12th Calvary had re-established control of the Black Hills. At the end of the day, as Abner boarded the north bound train he decided that he would rather take his chances with the Sioux, than the fanatical employer he was leaving behind. For the rest of his life, whenever he saw a pair of grey leather gloves, his heart would constrict to the point of almost not beating.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Author's Note: This chapter is rated M because of content. A less explicit version can be found at 'The Big Valley Writing Desk', in the section 'Behind Closed Doors'.**_

 _ **Chapter Sixteen**_

"It is so different here, then at home." Priscilla came out onto the balcony, dressed in a lacey soft pink tea gown. She carried a heavy cut crystal tumbler, which she had filled with a dark amber whiskey, and she presented to Nick. He turned to look at pleasure with her, setting his cigar down on the green onyx ashtray that sat on the railing.

"Our sunsets are nothing like this; so intense and dramatic." She gestured to the view from the balcony. The sky was dusky blue, with lingering pink and orange streaks from the setting sun. The mountains, off to the west, were almost black, highlighted against the fading light.

Nick didn't know if it was the altitude, but the sun beat down a brilliant gold, giving a crisp edge to everything, even as the sky seemed to go on forever. At home the sunset was gentle, burnishing the eastern hills with a soft pink glow, as it brought closure to the day. In Denver nothing was gentle or slow from what he'd seen so far.

They had returned from the doctor's office an hour earlier, surprised at how late in the day it was – almost six o'clock. The drive back to the hotel, in the hansom cab and been made in silence, as they tightly held hands. Once upstairs Priscilla had gone to change, while Nick had jerkily ripped off his tie and jacket, before lighting a cigar and heading out to the balcony, hoping the cool air would calm his swirling emotions.

"Home?" he queried, as he eagerly took the proffered glass, admiring how the tea gown clung to her bosom, which had started to blossom with her condition. The whiskey was smooth and warm, and he slowly took another sip, letting it roll around on his tongue before swallowing. Nick admitted that at least some things in his life were going well.

He looked at his wife, and noted that she'd loosened her hair, but not taken it all the way down. That was something he liked doing, slowly brushing out the thick tresses, admiring how soft Priscilla's hair was, and how the very tips of the longest strands were often caught beneath her round bottom when she sat.

"The Valley, our home." Priscilla replied, snuggling next to him and putting her arms around his waist. Nick set the glass down and put his arms around her, pulling her close to him; he buried his head in her neck, taking in the floral scent that wafted from her neck. He had always been aware of how wonderful she consistently smelled; no matter the scent Nick felt like he could never get enough of her.

"When did you know that the Valley was home?" Nick looked at her, noting how the deepening blue of the sky highlighted her summer blue eyes. Her cream and rose complexion and warm pink lips took on the glow of the setting sun. Suddenly he wanted to know just when she'd decided to throw her lot in with his.

"Christmas!" She answered, as if he should know; seeing his puzzled look she explained. "We had our talk at the Phipps' Christmas party, and then you took me to the station the next day. I was so excited at the thought of being back in Los Angeles, but once I was down there, I realized that God had other plans for me." Priscilla gave him an almost awe-struck gaze and Nick realized just how deep her commitment was to him.

"Well I am a damn lucky man is all that I have to say." Nick laid a soft kiss on her nose, and let his lips brush her soft skin. He felt her move against him, and he wished he could just sweep her up in his arms and take her inside; or even take her right here on the balcony. Unfortunately the current circumstances were stopping his inclinations.

"Right now though I would prefer to be home;. I wish we'd never come on this trip. Nothing good is coming from it." Nick sighed, thinking about the day's events, as they had unfolded. There was also his part in them, which he wanted to forget.

"Just what are you referring to? What happened to Heath? I don't see how you could have prevented that." Priscilla declared, having stepped back to let him reach for his glass. It was both comforting and slightly disconcerting on how well she could read his emotions. Nick knew that he could never lie to her, but also knew that he could tell her anything with no worry of censure of his actions. Now, she crossed her arms and looked at him intently.

"I said something to Sarah that I shouldn't have; she was very hurt." Nick took his eyes away from the horizon and turned to look at Priscilla, shame very apparent in his hazel eyes. He cringed as he replayed the scene in the doctor's office, When Sarah inquired about the funeral she had not been privy to – "Good God" he admitted "I have a big mouth."

"Nicholas, you didn't do anything wrong." Priscilla reassured him in a soft voice, squeezing his hands. "You had no way of knowing that Heath had not told Sarah about the funeral. He is at fault, not you; she is having every reason to be angry."

"Why would he not tell her?" Even as Priscilla's remarks made him feel slightly better Nick didn't like the implication of Heath's actions. Arranging a funeral was no small matter, and to do it in a strange location; Nick paused and an unwelcome thought came to him, that maybe his brother was not a stranger to Denver?

"We don't know why, and we might never know. What is sure is that Sarah is very upset, and with good reason." Priscilla reached up and kissed him on the cheek "You are not the cause of her being upset. Heath was the one that kept his plans for the funeral from her, not you." There was censure in her voice, making Nick want to defend Heath's actions.

"Sissi, you have to admit that Sarah's behavior has been difficult." He stated, remembering the anger and hysterics that they had witnessed.

"Yes, I know she has been spun up for most of the trip, but I think you need to take into account what has happened. Nick, I know how close Heath is to you; he is your brother." Priscilla paused, and looked him directly in the eye. "However, his behavior with his old friend, and then the funeral? Sarah is no doubt starting to wonder what else Heath hasn't told her!" Her voice was firm, and as Nick thought about the questions he was privately having about Heath. Suddenly he had no problem seeing how Sarah could be concerned.

"Just so you know Sarah is not the only one Heath is keeping information from. Those detectives – the ones from the other day? They were at the burial and questioning Heath when he was shot at." Nick wanted to move off the subject of Sarah, so went on to explain that they thought it was just a poacher, and still suspected Heath of murdering Logan to keep their past relationship quiet.

"Has Heath said anything about the officers? Or Logan's death?" Priscilla's voice had taken on a cool tone, as she'd turned to look at the dramatic sunset. Nick noticed how stiff her shoulders were, before she took a last admiring look at the sky, the dark blue over taking the view from the balcony. The North Star was suddenly dazzling in the sky, and Nick noted how it almost seemed to rest above his wife's head. He thought it appropriate, because of course the star was the guide to truth and happiness, which his wife was.

"No Heath hasn't said anything other than to say he will take care of it." Nick replied, not liking how weak the answer sounded. It came to him that Heath had given him the bare minimum of information about Logan and everything else that had happened in Denver. He had given his brother leeway, because of the connection to Carterson, but now Nick wondered if he should have pushed harder for information.

"Since Heath is laid up with his injury, and we have the trip to Georgetown coming up, may I suggest some additional support?" Priscilla turned to look at him; Nick noted the worry lines in her forehead. He realized that she was being cautious in what she said.

"Sissi, what is troubling you?" Nick stepped forward and pulled her into his arms; he was pleased with how quickly she melted against him. In truth, he just wanted her to be calm and getting rest, not dealing with the all the problems they'd had since coming to Denver.

"I need to apologize to you – and Heath – for not taking the attempts on his life seriously. I have no doubt, after three times, that someone wants Heath dead." Priscilla removed herself from his arms, and walked to the far edge of the balcony. The sky was now a dark blue, the mountains looking black against the last rays of the setting sun.

Priscilla turned and walked back over to where Nick was standing, in arousing disarray. His white linen shirt was open at the collar, and since he'd taken off his suspenders the shirt was almost out of his black worsted wool trousers. Even as she as was tired she felt her femaleness stirring at how handsome and dashing he was.

"I need to state that after you presented your argument to me last time, I thought it very plausible. Frankly, until today I was starting to come around to your way of thinking." Nick offered, tilting his head and smiling, which caused his dimples to flash. It was only the importance of the conversation that kept Priscilla from wrapping herself around his lean, hard body.

"Really? You're just not saying that?" She was surprised at his statement, even as she was relieved that he had not become defensive when she criticized Heath. Priscilla knew how strong the bond was between the brothers, and she tried to respect it as much as possible. There were times though that the truth, no matter how hard or unpleasant, had to be spoken.

"Yes, because the circumstances have been so odd, and the 'so-called' attacks have really not made sense." He walked over and put his arms around her shoulders, and Priscilla moved close against him, nuzzling his neck. Nick's skin was smooth and warm, and she inhaled his scent, overlaid with the masculine whiffs of whiskey and tobacco. It made her feel safe and protected, and suddenly she too wished they were back at home.

"So what is your suggestion for additional support?" Priscilla felt his fingers brush the skin of her neck, as they trailed up to her chin. His touch had tingles running up and down her spine, and for a moment she had trouble focusing on what he was asking. Only when he lifted her head up, to look at him did she remember her earlier thought.

"I think you need to reach out to the Pinkerton's; don't they have a branch in Denver?" She replied, having remembered how Jarrod relied on them for matters in California. Priscilla knew that it was a nationwide agency, and hoped that Denver had a branch. The idea had actually come to her several days earlier, but she wasn't sure how Nick – and Heath – would receive the idea. The brothers' liked to solve their own problems, as she knew all too well.

"Yes, they do. I actually suggested the idea to Heath, but he said that he could gather more information on his own." Nick went on tell her about their suspicions at the lunch, and how nothing had come of it. "I know that Heath has done some other investigating, but I don't know what it entailed." The words trailed off, as if Nick was shying away from the matter. Priscilla wondered if he was more upset with Heath's lack of sharing than he wanted to let on; she pushed the thought aside, knowing that this wasn't the time for _that inquiry_.

"Did Heath really think he could do better on his own, or did he not want the Pinkerton's digging into Logan's and his past?" Priscilla had heard the almost apologetic note in her husband's voice, and she discerned that Nick was starting to regret letting Heath take the lead.

"Honestly Sissi, I really don't know. Clearly Heath has not told me everything." She heard sorrow in Nick's voice as he made his admission, which led credence to her earlier suspicion. Priscilla saw that Nick was struggling with his brother's behavior, and decided to follow her instinct and leave the subject for now.

"Heath being laid up is the perfect excuse to call in the Pinkerton's. It is not like Heath can go playing detective, with his wound." She announced in an upbeat voice, kissing him on the cheek. "Plus, getting the Pinkerton's involved might get those police officers to back off some. The Pinkerton's will have access to the locals that you and Heath don't have." Priscilla wanted to reassure Nick that calling in outside help was not a betrayal of Heath. Certainly, the man had to realize that he was in no shape to object.

"Ok Honey, I'll reach out to the agency tomorrow, and brief them about the case." The relief in Nick's voice was apparent, and Priscilla inwardly smiled. She had been more scared than she'd let on this morning, about the shooting at the cemetery. Bullets were unpredictable, and if someone was taking potshots at the Barkley's it could have ended much worse than what it had.

"I think we have spent enough time on the subject." Nick had been very aware of Priscilla snuggling against him, her body moving against his. The pleasure of having his beautiful loving wife in his arms, and her clear delight in being with him was relaxing and exciting him at the same time. Her idea of the Pinkerton's, along with her reasoning, was a salve to his thoughts. Heath could get on his high horse, but in the end getting the agency involved was the right idea. They could get to the bottom of the mayhem, which is how Nick privately referred to Heath's situation right now.

"And what subject would you like to spend time on?" Priscilla giggled softly, moving her lips to his jawline, where she laid a series of kisses, her tongue lightly flicking against his skin. He felt what she was doing and almost groaned, as she moved to his neck. Her lips were soft, but on made his skin feel like flames were dancing down his body.

"I think you know exactly what I have in mind." Nick growled in response, releasing her from his arms. He walked over to the edge of the balcony and finished his last sip of his whiskey, before coming back towards her. The tea gown clung tight to her bosom, before it fell loosely around her body, and he felt the edges of the lace, as his hands went to encircle her waist.

His hands moved up the sides of her body, to the edges of her breasts, which were full and pressing against the bodice. Nick let his fingers brush inward, with each stroke moving slightly closer to the hardening peak that he could see forming. Her quivering made him aware that she was more than ready for anything he had in mind. His hands moved down to her hips, and then pulled her hard against his burgeoning manhood.

"Dinner, right?" Priscilla had felt her husband's rising passion, and knew he wanted her badly. However, she decided it was going to be on her terms. "I have ordered room service, to include a thick steak for you, and potatoes." She went on to describe the meal, and she felt Nick almost sag as she talked about food.

"Sissi, food is not what I need now." Nick stamped his foot, his desire hitting his body hard. As if he wanted to eat when he could have his way with his wife! However, what she said next made him realize that she had played him perfectly.

"I think you should have dessert first Nicholas." Her tone was smooth and warm, and he noted her hands moved down to his pants. Priscilla's fingers brushed against his waistband, before moving to his crotch, where his shaft was pressing against his pants. She made quick work of undoing his pants, and freeing his phallus from his drawers.

"My how large and hard you are!" There was a saucy note in her voice, and Nick noted the admiration in her blue eyes, as she regarded his manhood. Her fingers moved to stroke him, lightly at first, and then with more pressure. Her actions had him emitting a loud groan, and Nick felt his groin tightening even more than it already was.

"I am large because of you." Nick managed to utter, as her hand continued to torment him in the most delightful way. Her next action though caused him to gasp with surprise and anticipation. She lowered herself to her knees, so her face was level with his crotch. He could only hope what she was going to do next, and wasn't disappointed.

Priscilla had felt the throbbing of his shaft, and knew what he would enjoy; the special act. Nick had taught her a lot during their honeymoon, having been helped by the fact that she was fearless, curious, and madly in love with her husband. Her hands had already been busy with his manhood, admiring the steel hardness encased in the velvet-like skin.

Now she let her lips move to the bulbous tip, which was already slight damp with his building excitement. Priscilla barely touched the tip, before she let her tongue lick the tender opening, causing him to gasp and then growl loudly. Liking the reaction she was getting, Priscilla moved her lips to cover the edge, sucking slightly as she pulled against the ridge.

Nick felt what she was doing, and after emitting the animal like growl reached out to grasp the railing of the balcony, for support. Her tongue was like flames as it stroked his shaft, while her lips encircled him completely. He pushed forward, and felt the intensity of her actions increase; just as his mind went blank he noted a shooting star in the now black sky. Its silvery light mimicked what was coursing through his body.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Heath was vaguely aware of voices in the room, but as he tried to turn toward them a burning pain seared through his left hip. He let out a strangled cry, and heard a woman – Sarah? – gasp; then a male hand raised up his head. The man's other hand brought a glass up to Heath's lips, and he tried to pull away, as the medicinal smell hit his nostrils. However, the man was strong, and Heath didn't have the strength to resist, and before long Heath was caught in a forced sleep.

When he woke again he felt clearer in the head, and noticed the sun coming through the window. Heath took note of his surroundings, feeling the smallness of the bed with its iron frame and plain white bedding. The window on the side was slightly open, letting an almost cold breeze in. The curtains, made of blue muslin, fluttered slightly as the wind blew. He didn't recognize where he was, and attempted to sit up.

"Agh!" Heath exclaimed, as the hot pain that he remembered occurred in his left hip. He gritted his teeth and struggled to move.

"No, Heath don't." Sarah was at his side, admonishing him in a soft voice. "The doctor will be here in just a minute, and he can help you; you're lucky the damage isn't any worse than what it is." Heath didn't understand what she was talking about, even as he kept on trying to sit up.

"Stop it Heath! You'll tear your stitches." Sarah almost snapped at him, and Heath suddenly went very still. _Why did he have stitches?_ He asked himself, and then added _where am I?_ Heath looked over at Sarah, who was sitting beside him, worry in her eyes.

The last thing he remembered was being at the cemetery – the cemetery! Heath now recalled how and why he'd been there, standing over Logan's grave. The shot; yes, he'd been shot at, had come out of nowhere. Before he could think of anything else, a grey-haired man came into the room.

"I see that our patient is up or at least trying to get up." The voice was genial, and Heath noted the twinkle in the unknown man's eyes. "Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Cliveden and this is my clinic. You were brought here after being shot, I took that bullet out of you "The doctor went on to give explain what he'd done.

"So as of now you have over a dozen stitches in your hip, and will be restricted in your movements for the next week or so. Within days you can walk, slowly and carefully, with a cane on flat surfaces at first." The doctor stated, and Heath found himself groaning as the words sunk in to his mind.

"Doctor no, I have too much to do." Heath thought about his plans for Georgetown, and the mines, all of which he needed to inspect. It was those thoughts that made him try to move again, but the doctor put his hand on Heath's chest, forcing him down. The twinkle left the doctor's eyes, as he issued his warning.

"Young man you are very lucky! If that bullet had gone two inches to the right you would have been paralyzed." Doctor Cliveden replied firmly, giving him a stern look. "Not only would you have been paralyzed, but you would never know the joys of fatherhood. Instead I suggest you thank your lucky stars and do as you are told and be grateful for the second chance you have." The last words were delivered with firmness, and Heath could almost swear that Sarah's countenance wore a pleased expression for just a minute. It was gone so fast he wondered if he'd really seen what he'd thought; so far nothing had been what he'd expected.

It was the thought of Sarah that made him realize all the events of the funeral, and the fact that he had not told Sarah about his plans. Heath admitted that some of his reticence was because in his mind, Logan was his friend, and part of his past. He hadn't seen any reason to drag Sarah into the affair, and upset her with references to his experience in the war.

There was also a part of him that didn't want to deal with Sarah's reaction to his involvement with Logan. Heath knew that Logan was the cause of fight between him and Sarah, and he didn't want to open up the discussion again. The issue of what to tell Sarah about the funeral had been solved by her being invited to lunch by Adam Cohen. In truth Sarah should never have known about him being at the cemetery, if not for the bad luck of him being shot.

"Sarah, I need to explain something to you." Heath waited until, after the doctor had helped him sit up and left the room, to broach the subject. Sarah though handed him some tea, which he didn't want but drank to keep her happy. He knew that he owed her an explanation, especially since Nick and Priscilla had been at the cemetery.

"You remember how I told you that Logan was someone I knew a long time ago, before I came to the Valley?" Heath forced the words out, feeling discomfort at having to open up about his past. He noted that Sarah was regarding with a bland expression, her hazel eyes flat even as her lips smiled slightly. "After he died I felt like I owed him a proper burial, but I didn't want to upset you about his death." Yes, Heath thought, this was the proper approach to take with Sarah; he was looking out for her.

"I understand Heath." She smiled kindly, which took Heath aback. Sarah should have been upset; or getting upset about his not being upfront with her. Instead she was calm and accepting, which made him wonder if it was just because of his wound. It came to him then that Nick and Priscilla would have told her about the funeral. Heath wondered what they had said to Sarah.

"Listen, Nick and Priscilla were at the cemetery because they were visiting Joseph and Hester's mausoleum." He stated, wanting to see what her reaction would be, not wanting to explain how Nick had involved himself in the matter.

"Heath, you need to focus on getting well" Sarah tilted her head, concern apparent in the puckered brow and pursed lips "they explained everything that had happened at the cemetery." She took his hand and held it in hers. "I think it is very noble what you did for your old friend, but now you need to eat something and rest." Sarah added, and Heath started to wonder what was really going on with his wife, as her calm demeanor was out of character.

However before he could explore it further Dr. Cliveden's wife returned with breakfast, which was scrambled eggs. Heath wasn't terribly hungry, but knew that he should eat something. He soon found himself feeling tired, and let Sarah help him get comfortable in bed.

It was two days before Dr. Cliveden let him leave the surgery, and Heath wasn't sure if he was glad to get out of there. Sarah's behavior had not changed which Heath put down to being at the surgery, with people around. Heath was sure that when they were at their private quarters in the hotel Sarah and he would have an argument about the funeral.

The instigator of the shooting, when he first heard about it was pleased; Abner had finally completed the job. The well-dressed man was feeling good anyway, having decided he didn't need to worry about the journal his nemesis had been keeping. That journal contained a record of every transaction he'd done, and if it came to light it would mean arrest and prosecution; an end to his career and life.

Using the excuse of the furnishings in Hester's house being packed up, he had entered the house in broad daylight. If someone had asked him why he was there, he had a legitimate reason to state, but he hadn't needed it. There were enough people coming and going that no one paid him any attention. His cold eyes appraised any likely hiding places, mentally noting them to search later.

He went to the house that evening, having made sure the night guard was over at the saloon. It was quick work to check the locations he'd seen earlier. The last place he looked was the armoire in the guest room; he had noted earlier in the day that it didn't seem to open which struck him as very odd. Wanting to be prepared he'd brought a small crowbar and made quick work of opening the doors.

All he saw were some old gowns and empty hat boxes – he knew they were empty because he looked in each one. It then came to him that his nemesis probably kept the journal in a safety deposit box. Hester was someone who liked to have insurance in all situations, as he knew to his determent. The box had not come to light with her estate, therefore, he reasoned, it must be under an assumed name. In that case, he smiled evilly to himself, it would never be found, since Hester was dead.

So in the afternoon, when he heard about Heath's shooting and surgery, he was sure that the other thorn in his side would soon be gone. The well-dressed man had informants all over town, and knew everything that was happening. It was as he was sitting down to dinner that his oriental houseman brought a sealed envelope that had been delivered by anonymous courier.

The opening of the envelope ruined his appetite; Heath was not dying and in fact would make a full recovery. The well-dressed man – he always sat down to dinner fully dressed, even if he did live alone – pushed his food away and moved quickly to his study. He shut the door, and after locking it drowned two large shots of scotch, before hurling the glass into the fireplace.

His anger intensified the next day, as he tried to find Abner and this time beat him as he'd wanted to last time. However, Abner was in the wind, and at first no one knew where he could have gone. Another informant, the next day came up with the information Abner had bought a train ticket to Sheridan, Wyoming. The instigator put no stock in that information as Abner would not go to Wyoming in his opinion. It was too rural for a city dweller such as the assassin was; rather he thought Abner had doubled back and headed for Chicago or New Orleans. Good riddance was the well-dressed man's thought, not wanting to waste the time to deal with Abner who would get his just desserts in the end.

Instead, on the third day, a new idea came to him, one that filled him with pleasure and excitement. Instead of paying someone to kill Heath Barkley, he would do it himself! He was perfectly placed to commit the act, with no one suspecting anything, provided he was careful. The next several days were spent drawing up different scenarios of how he could kill Heath.

His plans were helped by the fact that they would take place in Georgetown, where the instigator knew accidents were commonplace. The well-dressed man had been successful in business, because he had always taken the time to think through his every move. He used that skill now to put into piece what would be a bigger coup d'etat than anything he'd executed in the boardroom. The man's eyes gleamed with a menacingly evil as he pondered his different scenarios of death for Heath Barkley.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note: The Georgetown Loop Railroad, as it is known today, was put under construction back in 1872, to provide quicker access to the mines in the mountains. By 1877 Jay Gould (Union Pacific) had supplied the funds to take the line into Georgetown. The railroad brought supplies, workers and tourists into the booming mining town, and carried ore from the mines to be processed.**_

 _ **Author's Second Note: The Hotel De Paris heyday was actually 1895– 1930, later than this story is taking place. However, I wanted to include it, as at one time it was a bastion of European elegance in the Wild West. For more information please visit**_

 _ **Chapter Eighteen**_

Heath braced against the metal frame of the seat, trying not to grimace as the train car took the sharp curve hard. His hip was still sore, from the shooting, even after the week of convalescing. The doctor had released him after two days, and he had spent the rest of the time resting in the hotel room.

He had been pleasantly surprised that Sarah didn't bring up the funeral, or anything else regarding the shooting. She made sure he rested, ate well, and didn't overdo his activity. In other circumstances, he would have been pleased with her behavior, but Heath felt like her actions were impersonal. It was just how she would have treated anyone who was wounded, albeit with a little more familiarity. Due to his wound, Heath wasn't in a position to initiate any romance, but he hoped that once they were in Georgetown, and his hip was better he could overcome the space between them.

On the other hand, he and Nick had managed to butt heads on two different occasions, while they were still in Denver. Nick, in his high-handed way, informed Heath that he'd called in the Pinkertons, to look into the mayhem they'd encountered in Denver. Heath knew that Nick's reasons – Sarah and Priscilla's safety, and his injury – made sense but he wished his brother had consulted him first.

Yes, Heath had turned down the Pinkertons the first-time Nick had suggested them. He had been sure he would get to the bottom of the matter; privately he admitted that he didn't want the Pinkertons looking into his connection with Logan. When he'd tried to explain to Nick, that he'd wanted to take care of the issue himself, his brother had retorted ' _boy I'm trying to keep you out of jail'_. He went on to reference the Denver detectives, who had come by the hotel to question Heath, after the doctor had released him. That they still regarded Heath as the main suspect in Logan's death was clear, from the questions and the manner they asked them.

The other argument with Nick was about the mine inspections that Heath had been going to do in Georgetown. He knew that the trust had hired a very well regarded European mining engineer, to work with Heath in Georgetown. However, Heath wanted to see the conditions first hand, since he would regard them from a miner's point of view. When he'd finally been able to present his schedule to Nick, his brother had not been receptive in the least to the itinerary.

Only later did Heath remember Nick's bad experiences being down in mines; being trapped and left for dead could scare even the bravest man. However at the time the argument happened Heath was feeling frustrated at how his plans had been compromised. He hated relying on anyone else, and felt strongly that with his background as miner, it was his duty to advocate for the workers.

The end result had been a nasty argument with Nick, who took the position that the mining engineer knew his job. Nick further added that Heath needed to realize that he wasn't the only man who knew about mines. The blow up had happened over dinner two nights before they left for Georgetown. Even as Heath stomped away from the table – by himself – he knew that yet again this was an argument he wouldn't win.

The memory of that argument came back to him, as he looked at the train car he was residing in. Heath had assumed that they would take the stage up to Georgetown, but had been dismayed to find out that they were on a narrow gauge railroad. He had always hated the 'mini' iron horses, not liking how the natural landscape was destroyed to build the tracks. There was also the matter of comfort, as he gritted his teeth against yet another sharp curve.

Of course he thought to himself, he was also gritting his teeth at the thought of his traveling companions and looked around the car. The rail car they were in was plush; being one of five personal cars used by the upper echelon of the Union Pacific stockholders. Red brocade curtains framed the windows, red silk wallpaper was on the walls, and the scones were red tinted glass. The seats were covered in red leather, with the rear part of the car set aside with a table and an inset bar cabinet that would have been worthy of most restaurants.

Heath looked at the occupants of the rail car and tried to keep the frown from his face. Considering how the car was jerking up the incline, causing his hip pain, which made him grimace; well it did conceal his frown. He had been dismayed to see Roland White already on board the train. Heath had not realized that the lawyer was going to make the trip with them to Georgetown.

The last thing he wanted was to listen to the overdressed lawyer talk disdainfully about the riff raff of Denver. White was too impressed with himself, and had a low opinion of anyone who didn't have money. He'd already heard the lawyer's thoughts on how to deal with the lower classes. Heath pitied the servants who worked for the man; sure he was a mean employer.

Jack Regan was another unwelcome passenger on the trip. He boarded the car quite cheerfully, informing Heath that he and Dale had flipped a coin to see who would get to go to Georgetown. The detective went on to explain that since Heath was the prime suspect in a murder investigation, the police department had authorized the trip.

There was no doubt that Jack thought Heath was guilty, and wouldn't let him out of his sight. Heath wished he wasn't hurt, enjoying the idea of the policeman trying to make his way in a cold dark mine. He was taken aback to see that Jack and Roland knew each other; further Roland had overheard the policeman's comment about the murder investigation.

The two men sat down together, were soon talking closely while drinking coffee served by a white coated Negro attendant. Heath hoped the subject wasn't him and Logan, but from the occasional side long glance the lawyer gave him, he rather thought he was the focus of their conversation. No doubt the lawyer would be glad not to have to deal with him and his concern for the workers of the mines, rather than the profits of the owners.

The Swiss mining engineer was another, in Heath's mind, unwelcome passenger. Even worse, it was Nick and Priscilla who had invited him to ride with them to Georgetown. Heath knew he was being unfair to the man, who was knowledgeable, based on the conversations he'd had with the man. It was nice that Andre Moix was proficient in English, and update to date on the latest developments in mine safety.

However, he was still annoyed at how Nick was willing to let the man go off on his own, instead of accompanying him into the mines. It wasn't helping Heath's mood that Monsieur Moix was sitting next to Sarah, talking to her animatedly. Sarah was responding with laughter and delight, very different from her usual decorum. Heath had noticed that since he'd been shot, there'd been a difference in Sarah.

She didn't seem as taut in dealing with people, and presented a much easier going façade to everyone. Heath had privately wished on more than one occasion that Sarah would behave in that manner. Now though, it made him wonder, not for the first time, what was going on with her. He was also reminded of Leah and Hannah's oft said admonishment of _be careful what you wish for_.

Georgetown Colorado, with an elevation of over 8500 feet, nestled in a valley along the Clear Creek River. Heath knew the town ran north and south, parallel to the river; there was very little room to expand east or west. The granite cliffs of the mountains stopped any development on their unforgiving slopes. The railroad station and most of the development was at the southern end of the town. The northern end was the beginnings of the mining camps, and more haphazard in layout.

The Hotel De Paris, where they were staying, was the last word in luxury between Chicago and San Francisco. Heath knew that it had been founded by a Frenchman, who referred to it as a 'Little Souvenir' of his native France. Several carriages greeted them at the station, and took the party up to the hotel. He wasn't pleased to find out that the passengers from the rail car were all staying at the hotel.

The hotel itself, stuccoed in pale beige, stood out from the wood and brick buildings surrounding it. The windows were framed by brown paint, highlighted with blue trim; it looked like it had been moved intact from Europe. The statue of Justice, in white marble on the roof, only added to the impression the building gave off.

Heath was delighted to find out that he and Sarah had their own suite, as it would be the first privacy they'd had since leaving Stockton. The hotel was lavishly decorated, with Wilton carpets, finely carved wood furniture, ornate crystal light fixtures and painted trim. He knew the dining room was renowned for the quality of the food, but after taking a quick look at the menu, left in their room, Heath thought it sounded too French for his taste.

The next two days were spent exploring the town by himself, as Sarah had succumbed to a nasty case of altitude sickness. Heath had made it a point to drink water on the train ride, and had offered water and lemonade to Sarah. She had taken the beverages, but later Heath couldn't remember if she'd actually drunk any of the contents. Sarah, by the afternoon of their arrival, had a headache and nausea. The doctor was called, and pronounced bed rest and a liquid diet of broths.

Heath with his injury could get around town with his cane, and used the opportunity to explore the bustling community. He'd been in more mining towns that he could even remember, having seen the wheel of the boom and bust that gold and silver brought. The construction in Georgetown was solid, with lots of not quite mansions but definitely upper class houses going up. There was the clear demarcation between the 'right' and 'wrong' side of town, which saddened him.

The afternoon of his second day was spent with Priscilla, who was going to visit the school in Georgetown – which all the mine owners paid to run – as well as the hospital. She was also going to visit the housing area, where the miners who worked for the Van DerHoffen mines lived. Heath knew she was concerned about the welfare of the miners and their families.

Priscilla had authorized cash bonus payments to the miners; in addition she had insisted that if the miner had a family the wife received a payment too. This gesture had caused some grumbling from many of the men, but Priscilla had insisted that the women receive the money. Her reasoning, as she explained to Heath, was that the women would use their money to ensure their family's well-being.

Heath wanted to admire Priscilla for her decision, but couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one who heard the unsaid innuendo of the gesture; that the men would just spend the money on drink. He knew his sister-in-law for looking out for the women and children, but understood how many of the men felt demeaned by the action. For every man who might go on a drinking spree, Heath was sure that there were two who wanted to be the ones to provide for their family. It was a case of _damn if you do, damn if you don't_ ; Heath decided not to overthink the matter.

Each day started by having breakfast with Andre Moix and Nick, to review the results of the mine inspections. Heath had to concede that Andre was through in his work, and didn't have bias in his observations. Nick let Heath handle the reviews, and he was glad that his brother was letting him take the lead.

After eating Nick went off to do ranch paperwork that Jarrod had sent to Denver. His brother was also exploring the town and the saloons; in the evening he and Priscilla had gone out to dinner parties. Heath and Sarah had been invited too, but with Sarah not feeling well Heath declined. Instead he would go find a simple restaurant to have dinner, before taking some broth up to Sarah. He felt bad that she was having so much trouble adjusting, and was trying to figure out some way to make the whole trip up to her.

On the third day Heath decided that while he couldn't go down into the mines, he could still take a wagon out to the operations. His walking was stronger, and he only carried in the cane in case the terrain was rough. The first mine he went to was close to town, and one of the older ones in the area. Heath walked around the production area, and talked to the foreman and workers who were running the machinery.

The thing that struck him was the age and condition of the equipment, especially the crusher machine. Heath could see that the machine was well maintained, but knew that it was over six years old. The Barkley mines had just installed several of the newer models of the crusher, made by the same company. There were other pieces of equipment that were also several years old.

He decided that probably because this was an older mine – he knew from the reports that it didn't produce much ore anymore – the machinery had not been upgraded. Heath said his goodbyes and moved on to the next two mines on his list. These two mines were high producers, and Heath paid special attention to the production equipment. He noted some newer pieces, but also a number of older machines still being used.

It struck him as odd, since Priscilla had said that Joseph always employed the most up-to-date methods at his mines. The last mine on his list was the farthest out, and he could tell from the angle of the sun that it was getting late in the afternoon. His lunch had been some sandwiches he'd picked up in town, and his hip was starting to ache from the walking he'd been doing.

Something in his brain though made him push through to the fourth mine; this was the largest and highest producing mine. Heath drove the wagon into the yard, and went to find the foreman, who also oversaw the production at the other mines. The man greeted Heath heartily, and showed him around the operation.

Heath saw the usual mix of old and new equipment; most of the new machines were the smaller ones used in the production process. The large machines – and the most expensive – were all several years old. The hydraulic thrasher caught his eye because he could swear he had seen a bill of sale on the machinery, for this mine. He examined the piece of equipment and could see that it was not the new model.

When he questioned the foreman, Jim Mayhew, about the fact the man replied that he'd put in the purchase request a year earlier. However, with Joseph Van DerHoffen traveling, and then his death, the purchase had been put on hold until the estate was settled. Heath asked Jim about equipment at the other mines, and heard that over the last two and half years there had been purchasing problems.

After saying goodbye, promising to see what he could do about getting the equipment purchased, Heath drove slowly back into town thinking about what he'd seen at the mines. He was sure that he'd seen the purchase order for the hydraulic thrasher, and that it had indicated the bill was paid and the equipment delivered. There had been other purchase records that he'd seen; he was sure of the fact.

Or so he thought, because when he arrived back at the hotel, after checking on Sarah who was sleeping, he pulled the files to go through. No, he noted, there were no records of equipment being purchased. Heath knew he didn't have the ledger books, but could swear he'd seen purchase orders and receipts. It came to him then that he must have seen them in the records that were back in Denver.

As part of his attempts to figure out who was trying to kill him, he'd gone through Joseph's papers. The office had not been packed up yet, and Heath spent the afternoon sorting files and reading correspondence. Heath sighed to himself, wishing he didn't have to wait until they were back in Denver. That was not for several more days, but there was nothing he could about it now.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

The well-dressed man was anything but this morning, as he strolled down the wooden walk along 3rd Street; one of the main thoroughfares in town. His worn work pants, and faded plaid shirt were very different than the bespoke suits he normally wore. Instead of his grey calfskin gloves he had put on utilitarian black cowhide gloves. He didn't like how the attire felt against him, but it made it easy for him to blend into the populace of Georgetown.

The sky was a brilliant blue, with the sun beating down, highlighting the dust clouds being stirred up from the dirty street. The warmth of the sun's rays was a contrast to the cool air of the mountains. The breeze wafted through the few trees that grew in clumps with skinny white trunks. Their leaves were various shades of gold, which quaked and rustled with the wind.

The man didn't notice any of this though, as he cut over to Taos Street, where most of the commercial businesses were, to put his plan into place. _If Heath had been killed in Denver, if Abner hadn't lost his edge_ – the man seethed inwardly – he wouldn't have to be trudging the dusty street in rough clothing. The instigator had wanted Heath killed in Denver, to keep him from going to Georgetown.

The well-dressed man had covered his tracks well, but had not counted on Heath, with expertise and experience in mining. Last night he had received, from one of his sources, the information that Heath had been out at the processing sites, examining the equipment. That piece of news had caused the well-dressed man to move up his plans, for killing Heath. It had to be done before Heath could get back to Denver and look in the files; then it would be all over.

There were several saloons on the street, but the instigator walked towards the end of Taos Street. The saloon there was rougher than the others, being further away from the more respectable businesses. He had seen the crush of horses and wagons around the inadequate tethering bar; the men were drawn by the cheapness of the beer. Smiling evilly, he walked to the edge of the street, pleased at the thought of the outcome of his endeavor.

Heath Barkley walked across 3rd Street, liking how he didn't need to rely so often on the cane he still carried; he turned his face up to the golden sun. His mood was good because Sarah had woken up this morning, feeling hungry, which indicated the altitude sickness had finally passed. He had brought up a tray with some plain toast and tea, and had sat with her while she ate. She had listened to him talking about the town, and asked to go out to lunch with him that day.

He turned left on Taos Street, hoping he would get through his errands quickly, to get back in time for lunch. His conscience bothered him, at how he'd neglected Sarah on the trip; and that was before she came down with altitude sickness. That was not the only matter weighing on his mind, as he walked up the street, even as he enjoyed the smell of the fresh mountain air.

The condition of the processing equipment he'd seen yesterday, in his mine travels, was nagging at him. Heath knew that it wasn't a safety issue, and was not affecting output of ore at the mines. What was bothering him was the hydraulic thrasher at the last mine; he could have sworn he'd seen a purchase receipt for a replacement. His mind was good at remembering things, even small details.

Heath though admitted to himself that he had read copious amounts of information in the files. It was possible it had been a purchase order, or maybe even the request from the mine foreman for the thrasher. If it had only been the thrasher, but with the other older equipment he'd seen, Heath wondered if there was something he was missing.

"Mr. Barkley, Mr. Barkley." His thoughts were interrupted by a voice hailing him, and Heath had to work hard to keep his expression neutral as he turned and saw Detective Jack Regan. The suspicions that the man harbored about him had soured his opinion of the police officer. Heath noted that the man was still wearing a city suit and bowler, as if he was in Denver. However, his gun, which in Denver had been discretely tucked away in a shoulder holster under the jacket, was now displayed prominently on his hip, in a gun belt.

"Detective." Heath inclined his head slightly, hoping the police officer went about his way. Unfortunately, it appeared that he wasn't going to get his wish. Jack Regan fell into step with Heath, talking brightly.

"Georgetown is quite the place – growing fast. As part of my assignment here; besides you" Jack paused and gave Heath an amused glance "my superiors in Denver want me to liaison with the sheriff up here, to bring them up to speed on new procedures." It was clear that the policeman was enjoying himself at Heath's expense.

"How is your wife? I haven't seen her around." Jack questioned, his expression turning thoughtful in Heath's opinion. "Of course you two don't seem to spend a lot of time together, or socialize, from what I've seen. It would be interesting to hear her account of your relationship with Logan Dawes." The comment was delivered with a disarming grin; Heath knew it was anything but casual.

Heath wasn't sure if the detective was being deliberately provoking, but he took it as such, and worked hard not to respond. The last thing he wanted was to give Jack Regan the excuse to talk to Sarah. His wife was temperamental at best and downright hysterical at worst, Heath had discovered to his chagrin. Yes, she'd been all pleasing since he'd been shot, but Heath knew her moods could change in a snap.

"My wife is suffering from altitude sickness, Detective Regan. Therefore we have not been going out socially. As if it is any of your business." Heath answered, keeping his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "Have you had any problems with the altitude?" He wanted to change the subject, off of Sarah, but the policeman didn't take the hint.

"No, I haven't. Maybe only women are prone to the problem, or at least some women. Now your sister-in-law is not having any problems, but then she lived in Denver several years ago?" Jack didn't wait for Heath to reply. "I ran into her and your brother in the hotel restaurant yesterday; what a charming woman. They kindly invited me to supper tonight, to talk about my experiences in New York City." The inflection in his voice made Heath think that New York wasn't what would be talked about.

He didn't miss the veiled criticism of him and Sarah, which stung him. Sarah had been subject to many unforeseen and unpleasant circumstances, which were hard for her. He also didn't care for the fact that Nick and Priscilla were willing to entertain the detective. Heath hoped that it was just Priscilla being kind, and Nick going along. It made him decide to that if Sarah wasn't well enough to leave the hotel for supper; they would eat in their room.

Heath would later admit that he was too preoccupied with his irritability at Jack Regan, Nick, and Priscilla that he didn't hear the thunder of hoofs headed in his direction. Instead it was the detective shouting, before grabbing his arm and yanking him in the direction of the wooden sidewalk. The motion caused both Heath and Jack to lose their balances and fall to the side.

As he was going down he finally saw the team of four horses, pulling a delivery cart, racing by him with no sign of a driver at the reins. Heath gulped hard, realized that if not for the police officer, he would have been trampled by the horses hooves. A shudder hit him, as he realized that the mayhem in Denver had followed him to Georgetown.

Rising up quickly – his wound sent an arc of pain up his leg that caused him to wince and stop in his tracks. He gritted his teeth and turned to help Jack Regan, only to realize the man was already up, and rocking back on his heels. The police officer looked none the worse for the wear, which made Heath narrow his eyes. Maybe the detective was used to life or death situations, or maybe – Heath didn't like the idea that came to his mind.

"Look, you've been regarding me as suspect in Logan's death, and I've tried to tell you that whoever murdered him thought they were killing me." Heath saw this as chance to get the detective off his back. "This is yet another attempt on my life, and you were here to witness it!" The accusatory statement was delivered loudly and with fury.

"Mr. Barkley, all I know is that you seem to attract trouble like flowers attract bees." The retort was delivered in a cold tone. It made Heath wonder if his diabolic idea could be correct. What Jack Regan said next did nothing to dispel Heath's thought. "You are a man who is always in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person." The detective then turned quickly and walked away without another word. Heath brushed himself off, and wondered when – not if – the next attack would occur.

Jack Regan was in fact more shaken up then he'd let on, by the runaway freight wagon. Yes, he'd faced death before, but it never got easier or less frightening. He was also giving Heath's declaratory words more weight than the speaker had realized. Personally he didn't care for Heath Barkley; his evasiveness with his past had made Jack's work harder than it should have been. Jack had also been put off by Heath's behavior with his wife, that morning in the hotel room, which had shown what a cold fish the man was. Jack's job though was to protect the innocent, even if he didn't like them.

The fact that Jack was willing to consider Heath innocent was because of what Jack had noted half-an-hour earlier that morning. He had an excellent memory for facial features, which couldn't be changed by any amount of disguise. As part of his time in Georgetown he had been deputized by the sheriff's office, to help patrol the town. Jack had spent the previous hour, after his meeting with the sheriff, making the rounds of the known hotspots for trouble.

Over by the 'Dew Drop Inn' – a bad name in more ways than one, as well as a calling place of the deputies – Jack had taken note of the wagons, horses, and men around the saloon. One of the cowboys struck him as off kilter, because of his walk and bearing. The clothes were those of a working man, but the carriage and stride were those of a man of authority. Jack had seen a quick glimpse of the man's face, when he turned to look down the street.

He had been almost shocked at who he saw – or rather who he thought he saw? No, it hadn't made any sense at the time, and Jack knew that many men had similar facial features. Now though, with the near miss of Heath being trampled to death, Jack mentally went over what he'd seen at the saloon. He also recalled a conversation he'd had recently; the circumstances had raised one of his red flags in police cases.

It was with all that in mind that Jack headed to the sheriff's office, to make use of the private telegraph there. He wasn't going to go off half-cocked, especially if the man he suspected was indeed the killer. Jack also wanted to determine the man's motive, before he applied for an arrest warrant. The District Attorney would want to know exactly what and why the suspect was being arrested.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter Twenty**_

"Mr. Barkley, be careful about how far out of town you go" the owner of the café said as she handed Heath a covered basket "there are always bands of brigands roaming Valle Plano." The white-haired woman nodded her head for emphasis as she made the statement. Heath recognized the name; it was the area outside of town that bordered the forest. No development had taken place, because it was felt to be too close the forest and rocky mountain terrain.

He didn't put too much stock in her comment but pretended to acknowledge the warning. He had heard stories before, in other mining towns, about allegations directed toward to unemployed and homeless men. They were just eking out a living hunting and fishing until they found another job; Heath knew this well as he'd been one of those men more than once. Yes, there were some rotten apples, but he had his gun on him, for protection.

He thanked her for the basket and put it in back of the buggy, and carefully covered it with a blanket. Heath didn't want to spoil his surprise for Sarah, having put a lot of thought into his plan. Yesterday, after his near miss with the run-away freight wagon he had managed to finish his errands, despite Jack Regan's uncompromising attitude. When he arrived back at the hotel Sarah was dressed in a pretty blue dress, with a smile on her face which made him set aside the whole ghastly encounter.

They'd gone to a restaurant that overlooked the park, one that Heath had discovered in his explorations of town. The park was barren, but the food was solid and hearty, and he'd been glad to see Sarah eat a decent meal. Heath had enjoyed talking to her about the scenery around town, and the grandness of the mountains. Sarah had listened intently and had encouraged him to elaborate on his stories.

When they had arrived back at their hotel suite they found a note from Priscilla, inviting them to her dinner party that evening. Her letter explained that she was inviting the local people who had given parties for her and Nick, along with the people who'd come up with them on the train from Denver. The event would take place in the private dining room of the hotel, and feature the French food and wine the hotel was known for.

Heath had wanted to laugh to when he saw this invitation; clearly this was what Jack Regan had referred to when he referenced having dinner with Nick and Priscilla. The detective had made it sound like he was the guest of honor, whereas in reality he was one of probably twelve or sixteen guests. That fact made him feel kinder towards Priscilla and Nick; clearly she was just being a good hostess. In spite of that, Heath didn't want to dine with the policeman, nor was he interested in the fancy French food the hotel restaurant served.

Instead he left Sarah to take a nap, while he went down to the gentleman's smoking lounge to read and do paperwork. When he came upstairs at half past five, he had pleaded, to Sarah, how his hip was bothering him, and that he would like to eat dinner in their suite. Heath thought he saw – just for a moment – a flash of disappointment, before Sarah acquiesced to his request. She had been all set to send for food from the restaurant downstairs, but Heath had insisted that they send the bellboy to get food from the café they'd had lunch at earlier.

His thoughts were broken by Sarah coming out of the hotel, dressed in an amber colored silk skirt, cream colored blouse, and brown tweed jacket nipped in at her tiny waist. Her hair was pulled back and topped with the velvet hat with the pheasant feathers she'd worn on their arrival in Denver. Heath thought she looked beautiful, liking how colors made her glow. He told her so, which had Sarah smiling with pleasure, as he helped her up to buggy.

The next hour passed quickly, as Heath showed her some of the mine sites, pointing out the geological points of interest. Heath also talked about the Quaking Aspen Trees, whose gold leaves offset the dark green of the pine trees. In truth he'd never seen scenery such as the Rocky Mountains offered, with the shades of gold and green offsetting the impressiveness of the shades of grey mountains. At one point they came to a waterfall, the cascading water causing delicate patterns of white and crystal to be woven again the rocks.

Sarah had been very receptive to his comments, and seemed to enjoy the experience. Heath would love to camp up in the mountains, and thrilled at the idea of Sarah next to him, as the moon rose over the mountain tops. It wasn't his land in California, but there was a primitive wildness to this area that appealed to his soul.

"I am sure that you are getting hungry, and I have something special planned." Heath let go the image in his mind, of being with Sarah under a Rocky Mountain High sky. He turned the buggy down a path, and came out in a meadow of green with late autumn flowers. The field was shielded by the mountains around it, and the purple and yellow wildflowers, along with the smell of sage, game him a peaceful feeling.

He stopped the horses, and after helping Sarah down, he moved to the back of the buggy. Heath reached for the blanket and took it out, carefully spreading it over a level part of the meadow. The basket was next, and Heath unpacked it, to reveal sandwiches, salad, cookies rich with cocoa powder; a jug of lemonade had been included also. Heath turned to look at Sarah, a smile on his face, as he spread his hands to indicate the lunch.

"Is this where we are having lunch?" Sarah asked, hoping the disappointment wasn't apparent in her voice. She had been looking forward to having lunch at the restaurant at the hotel, when they returned from the mountains. Yesterday afternoon, after Sarah had woken up from her nap, Priscilla had stopped by to see how she was doing. Her sister-in-law had told her in great detail about the dinner party she was hosting, especially the fine French food from the restaurant.

It had sounded delightful to Sarah, and it had taken a great deal of effort not to show Heath how crestfallen she was when he announced he didn't feel up to going out. Further it was clear that Heath was in a sour mood about the dinner party, and she had inwardly sighed to herself. He could be so difficult and touchy about the slightest of things, and Sarah was looking forward to getting back to California where she would not have to be in such close proximity to her husband.

"Yes, isn't it great? Not only do we have a great view of the mountains, but there is a stream not too far." Heath enthused, and Sarah felt her heart dropping to her knees at the thought of sitting on the ground. The air was cold; in fact Sarah had felt chilled ever since they'd arrived in Georgetown. Further, she couldn't help but think of the lunch that Adam Cohen had given her, in his splendid dining room.

The thought of Adam was both unwelcome but exciting at the same time; she was a married woman after all. As such she should have no thoughts of other men, but Adam haunted her even as she tried to push him away. He had been understanding and attentive as no man before ever had – even as she admitted the only men she could compare him to was her father and Heath.

Now she recalled the delicate and delicious food served on fine china by an attentive waiter. The whole meal had been attuned to comfort and consideration; Sarah couldn't see Adam expecting her to sit on the cold, hard ground. Her appetite disappeared, even as she noted Heath's pleased smile at the food he'd laid out on the plaid blanket.

"Yes, it is quite the spot." Sarah temporized, putting a smile on her face. She could see that lunch was a done deal, and decided her best bet was to go along for now. A plan came to her, that after she'd eaten some of the food she could announce that she wasn't feeling so well. Heath would take her back to the hotel quickly, she knew, feeling bad about wearing her out. Later, Sarah thought to herself, she could maneuver him into taking her to dinner at the hotel restaurant.

Heath gallantly helped her to lower herself to sit on the blanket, patiently waiting while she adjusted her bustle. Sarah, as she worked to get the slippery fabric of her skirt to cooperate, fumed to herself that if she'd known she would be sitting on the ground she would not have worn the outfit she had on. In the end she felt like an awkward heap, but from the way Heath was looking at her he didn't think that at all.

Sarah noted the gleam in his blue eyes, and knew that he was hoping that this picnic would set the stage for ardor later tonight. In truth they had not been intimate since the shooting, and Sarah had not been upset in the least. Her revelation about what her marriage and life were had changed her feelings forever about Heath. She knew she could only put him off for so long, but pushed the thought out of her mind for now, just wanting to be warm and comfortable.

Even as she took a small bite of the sandwich, she chided herself for getting into this predicament. Sarah wished now that she had not shown such enthusiasm when Heath had talked about the town and area surrounding Georgetown. She had, at the time, been going along to keep Heath happy. He had been very kind to her when she was suffering from altitude sickness; in her mind she could at least repay him by being attentive to his words.

"Sarah is everything all right?" She heard Heath asking, and realized that she hadn't swallowed the bit of sandwich she'd taken. In fact the bread was very thick, and the sauce on the meat couldn't cover its toughness. Chewing quickly she managed to swallow the lump of food, and reaching for the lemonade Sarah shook her head. Before she could say anything though four men, all wearing bandanas over their faces charged into the clearing.

"Of course she is not all right, and her situation is going to get much worse." The leader snarled the words as he stepped forward. "Not only are you an ill-bred bastard, but you are the cause of what is going to happen her, before I take care of you!" The man lowered the bandana and Sarah was shocked to see the face revealed. She could tell that Heath was also shocked, even as he reached for his gun.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

Nick looked down at Priscilla with love and concern, as he pulled her close against him; like all gentleman he was on the outside of the sidewalk. A stage went racing by, and he was glad for the raised wooden walkways that the main streets of Georgetown offered. Overall he wasn't really impressed with the town, because at the end of the day it was just another boom –soon to be bust – mining town.

He'd seen so many of them come and go – the inhabitants working so hard to establish riches and a social structure – that was all fleeting. As soon as the mines were played out everything would be for naught; Nick was careful to keep his thoughts to himself. He would share them with Pricilla if she asked, but Nick was sure that she'd already come to the same conclusion.

The whole trip had left him unimpressed with Colorado, but he was willing to admit that his view was tempered by his wife's condition. Well, his wife's condition and his brother's past, which unfortunately intersected at the mile high altitude of Denver. Nick could privately admit that he shouldn't be casting slights on his brother's past, since his relationship with Hester had brought him to where his life currently was.

There would be no Priscilla without Hester, so she, and her husband's estate, was the price he had to pay for his lovely wife. Nick had taken note of Priscilla's ensemble and was proud to be seen with her. The underdress was an emerald green plaid silk, over which Priscilla wore a hunter green wool cape with red fox trim at the collar and sleeves.

Considering how cold the air was Nick was glad that she was warmly protected against the temperature. He found it interesting how bright the sun could be, even as the air was cold; it was so different than back home. Nick had experienced many different types of weather – from his ranch, to the dampness of the south to the dryness of the southwest – but Colorado was throwing him for a loop. The sun could be so hot, even as the air was almost frigid; plus the altitude could make it dryer than the dessert.

Nick pushed his thoughts on the weather aside, as he listened to Priscilla chatter about the dinner party last night. She was in good spirits with no morning sickness which cheered him, so he was happy to listen to her for that fact, rather than he really cared about rehashing the evening. However, he did have to agree that the guests had done well together, being a mix of Georgetown residents and the members of the party that had come up on the train with them from Denver.

It had been a disappointment to Nick that Heath wasn't there, but suspected that his brother had not wanted to sit down to dinner with Jack Regan. In truth Nick couldn't blame Heath, and he too had had qualms when Priscilla had said she'd invited the man. She though had shrewdly pointed out that it would look suspicious if they didn't invite him, when they were inviting everyone else.

In fact, Jack had turned out to be a perfect guest at the dinner; he'd told thrilling – albeit properly edited for mixed company – stories about his days in New York City. Nick, over cigars and brandy, found himself thinking that if the police officer wasn't determined to pin a murder on Heath he would be interesting to get to know better.

His musings on the evening were stopped when they arrived at the café by the park, where he and Priscilla were going to have lunch. Heath had recommended the place to them, having found it in his explorations of the area. That memory made Nick sure that it wasn't Heath's hip that had caused him to beg off last night.

"It is too bad the park is barren right now; I'm sure it is pretty in the spring." Priscilla observed, after the grey-haired hostess, who introduced herself as the owner Mrs. Ward, sat them by a table next to the window. Nick nodded his head, having to give the boom town credit for setting up a public park, which he remarked to Priscilla.

"Well considering how much money is being generated by the mines it is at least what the town should do." She retorted with a tightening of her mouth. Nick wasn't surprised by her reply, knowing her concern for people less fortunate. It was one of the many qualities he loved about her, how she always cared about the underdog.

"The special of the day is chicken pot pie, and the soup is Texas style chili." Mrs. Ward came to their table, proffering the menu with a flourish. She was dressed in a dark blue, with a crisp white apron over the outfit. It was clear that she was proud of her establishment, and wanted everyone to know that fact.

"My brother has eaten here several times, and says your sandwiches are good." Nick stated, remembering what Heath had said, adding that you could get two meals out of them. His brother never forgot his poverty-stricken youth, and always liked a bargain.

"Your brother, what is his name?" Mrs. Ward tilted her head, as she adjusted the red checked tablecloth. He had the impression that the café owner was in constant motion, as she oversaw her restaurant.

"Heath, Heath Barkley." Nick answered and went on to describe his brother. He could tell that the woman knew who he was referencing.

"Yes, of course. He has eaten here several times, and even brought his pretty wife once." Mrs. Ward enthused, before her mouth turned down at the corners. She put her hands on her hips, and Nick could tell that something was bothering her about Heath.

"Is there a problem?" Nick queried, not sure what it could be, based on the way the woman was standing there. Heath was very amiable, especially to older women, who always wanted to mother him. He had teased his younger brother more than once on the response he elicited without cause, in certain ladies.

"Your brother ordered a picnic basket earlier today, telling me that it was a surprise for his wife. I asked him where he was going, and he just said that his wife wanted to see the countryside." The café owner paused, to fuss with her apron, before she went on. "I warned him about going outside of town alone; there are bands of armed men who will rob and murder you without a second thought. However I had the impression he didn't believe what I was saying."

"Mrs. Ward, who are these men?" Nick queried, noting the worry in his wife's eyes and how she had tensed up. He wasn't surprised to hear about the brigands. Mining towns always attracted trouble, as he knew all too well. He asked Mrs. Ward more about the men, but soon regretted his question, when she replied.

"Every couple of months there are strikes by the miners, and oftentimes, after the strike, the men are blacklisted by other owners. Since they can't get a job, they end up camping in the woods, getting by hunting and fishing" Mrs. Ward pursed her lips "at least the honest ones get by that way. The dishonest and the ones who have no scruples rob, beat, and even shoot travelers in cold blood."

Priscilla had sat up very straight, but before she could say anything Mrs. Ward was hailed by another table. Nick could see that the proprietress' comments had upset Priscilla, so he reached over to take her hand.

"Sissi, Heath is smart and fast with a gun. Further he wouldn't put Sarah in harm's way." Nick rushed to reassure her, being pretty sure what she was thinking. He silently cursed the café owner for telling the story with horrific details, even as he wished he had not asked the question.

"Nick, what if the mayhem in Denver has followed Heath here? What a perfect cover, if someone wants to kill Heath?" Priscilla's voice had a taut edge to it, as she struggled to control her emotions in public. "Why would he be so careless, after everything that happened in Denver, to take risks here, especially with Sarah?"

He had already seen how his wife's emotions, with her condition, were always brimming over. Nick was very aware that women who were enceinte felt things deeply, and Sissi, being the loving person she was experienced even deeper emotions. Further, Nick couldn't blame her for being so upset, because he knew something that she didn't.

When Nick had stopped at the Mining Exchange Club – which was just in fact a high-class saloon for the mine owners and upper level managers – he had heard about the incident with Heath and the run-away freight wagon. It had come up in conversation under the general topic of _the riffraff of town needed to be controlled_ which was a well-worn gambit in up and coming towns.

Nick though had been very disturbed to hear about it, and had planned on talking to Heath that evening. Heath though had begged off, so the conversation had never happened. Now he sighed to himself, as he regarded the worry in Priscilla's eyes, which only matched the silent concern in his own heart.

"Honey, why don't you stay here and eat, before going back to the hotel." Nick worked hard to keep his voice upbeat, as he smiled at his wife. "Look, I'll go find out where Heath went, which is probably some plot of grass barely a stone's throw out of town." In truth he didn't feel as confident as he sounded, knowing how Heath liked to go off the beaten path. However, his first concern was to get Priscilla settled, before anything else.

"Oh please yes, go make sure everything is fine!" Priscilla declared in a low tone, as she took a deep breath. "I really don't see anything on the menu I want; it all seems too large. I can get some nice soup at the hotel. I am feeling faint from the altitude." The last sentence was delivered in a louder tone of voice, and Nick saw Mrs. Ward approaching the table.

The next several minutes were spent with Priscilla praising the menu, offering that they would come back for dinner. Nick had to admire how his wife handled the societal niceties, even as she rushed them out of the café. When they arrived back at the hotel, Priscilla shooed Nick off, telling him to go take care of Heath.

Nick had seen how the maître de' of the hotel had greeted Priscilla, knew that his wife was in good hands. The reassurance that Priscilla was taken care of led him to turn his mind to tracking Heath. His first stop was the livery stable, but all Nick learned was that his brother had checked out a single horse hitch surrey early that morning.

His next stop was the Marshall's office, thinking that maybe he could find out how valid the rumors of bandits outside of town was. The Marshall's office was deserted, which annoyed Nick, causing him to stomp his booted and spurred foot. He was wearing his ranch clothes, which is what he'd done every day in Georgetown. There was an unbalanced frontier element to the city which made him feel on edge.

He had just stepped outside of the office when a dusty cowboy, walking on foot while leading a sorrel horse, came up to the hitching bar. Nick noted how young the cowboy was, but also the gold star on his brown leather vest. He hailed him, hoping for some information on where the Marshall could be found.

"I just came back from the stake-out the detective from Denver ordered, because of some murder down in the city. My horse hit a vermin hole and turned up lame." The young man cursed, even as he carefully examined his horse's leg.

"What stake-out? A murder in Denver? This is Georgetown!" Nick's voice rang out loud, as he advanced closer to deputy, brushing the horse's head aside, even as he rubbed the forelock. He knew he needed to stay calm to get the information he needed from the man. Luckily, Nick noted that the young man saw his attention to the horse, and talked to him as an equal.

"This high flaunting cop from Denver has been up here, chasing some murderer, even as he as been _helping_ Marshall Tyler." The young deputy replied, making it clear to Nick that Jack Regan had been as officious in Georgetown, as he'd been in Denver. Before Nick could privately chuckle at his observation, the deputy went on. "He came bursting into the office two hours ago, and insisted we mount a posse to ride out to the hills, to catch his murderer. As if we don't have enough crime here!"

Nick heard the frustration in the deputy's voice, understanding that Jack Regan was taking valuable resources from a stretched thin law enforcement agency. Normally Nick would dismiss this as a local matter, but knowing how Jack regarded Heath he gave it great weight.

Further, having heard from the café owner that Heath was up in the foothills – good god his brother could be anywhere – Nick felt a prickle of fear. If the brigands didn't get Heath, there was the mayhem that had followed them from Denver, and that damned detective who would do anything to pin a murder on Heath. Nick hated to admit that the last scenario would provide the best safety for Heath and Sarah, unless Jack found it easier to shoot Heath rather than bring him to justice.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

"Surprised Heath? You didn't suspect me, did you?" Roland White's narrow features gloated with satisfaction, as he regarded the shock in Heath's eyes. "Big mistake, but not your only one. Boys, tie up the woman." He waved his gun at his henchmen, who manhandled Sarah to the ground, binding her hands and ankles.

"No, your gun won't help you Heath." Roland stated, as he leveled his firearm and expertly shot at Heath's hand. The bullet grazed the knuckles, which caused Heath to drop the gun, as blood seeped out from his skin. "I am glad that all the tedious hours of practice at the shooting club are coming in handy. Killing you is going to be the greatest pleasure I've experienced in a long time." The lawyer didn't know it, but the look of madness was apparent in his pale blue eyes.

Heath pressed his bleeding knuckles against his pants, awed at Roland's marksmanship abilities. He regarded the older man, who he'd dismissed as a dandified courtier and realized how badly he had misread his opponent. The lawyer's body was taut and firm; the rough clothes only emphasized the well-toned muscles and Heath realized that the man was not at all what he had presented himself as. Roland White, with his ability to blend into the background was clearly a great nemesis, and Heath hated to admit at how he'd been taken in by the lawyer's charade.

He had always prided himself on being able to see through any man and was furious at how duped he'd been. Even as his anger swelled up inside him, Heath realized that he needed to control the emotion, if he was to save Sarah and himself. She was so pale and shaking that Heath wondered if she was going to pass out, which made him want to tackle the masked men head on. The barrel of the Colt Peacemaker in his face though forced him to tamp down his fury and emotion.

Now though, having seen the lawyer's true colors, Heath saw how Roland White had been perfectly positioned to try to kill him. The only question was why, and as he thought that Heath wondered if he could distract the man enough, to buy him time to come up with an escape plan. He knew that criminals liked to talk about their exploits.

"Since you are going to kill me anyway, can I at least know why?" Heath made it a point to appear nonchalant as he made his inquiry. In his experience bad men holding guns would get very riled when the opponent didn't kowtow to them, which could distract them. "Honestly I thought we were getting along famously." He managed a smile which belied the fear and fury coiling inside his body.

"Don't play dumb with me, you bastard – which is what you are – you know all about my scheme. I heard about your trip to the mines yesterday." Roland White stiffened with anger, as he made his accusatory statement. "I had the perfect financial windfall going on, until Joseph married Hester. That witch!" While the lawyer was not quite foaming at the mouth, it was clear that yet again Hester had driven a man to the point of madness.

"Yes, Hester was very good at finding any man's weakness; you've been lining your pockets at the expense of the VanDer Hoffen mines." Heath replied, still not sure what he was supposed to know, but willing to go along with the charade. He was truly curious, as he remembered his visits to the sites, even as he wanted to keep Roland White talking.

"There is no reason to replace perfectly good equipment every couple of years! Once Joseph became successful he was more concerned about his status in society and politics. It made it easy for me to doctor the books, so it looked like we bought equipment, when in fact the money went straight into my pocket." Roland explained, adding several other details that made sense to Heath. It tied in now with his questions after visiting the mines. "At first I welcomed Hester, thinking that not only would she keep Joseph distracted, but with the way she spent money, I could probably siphon off even more from the accounts." The lawyer's gun shook slightly, and Heath saw that the lawyer was still furious at Hester, even as she was dead in the ground.

"Hester saw right through your scheme though, didn't she?" Heath was jumping to conclusions, but knowing the woman was pretty sure he was right. Roland's response showed that he'd hit the bulls-eye.

"That bitch! I had the perfect scam going on, until she figured it out!" Roland's composure was starting to slip, as he responded to Heath's comment. "Honestly I was skimming almost six figures a year, on the mining equipment. However, she went over the VanDer Hoffen financials with an eagle eye and soon saw what I was doing. The she-devil gave me the option of paying her a percentage of my financial misdeeds or she would tell her husband about my activities. Not only that but she kept her own records of what I'd done. I have spent hours trying to find her evidence against me."

Heath shook his head, appalled at everything Roland was telling him, even as the barrel of the gun came closer to his forehead. The break-ins at Hester's house, the attacks on him; none of it had to do with mining reform. Instead it had all been about one man's greed, and Heath wished he would not have been so focused on his project. As he looked over at his wife, shaking with fear, and then regarded the deranged lawyer holding the gun, Heath wondered if this was really the end.

Sarah's silk skirt was soaked by the wet ground, while her arms and legs were tightly bound, to the point that she couldn't feel her fingertips. She had paid careful attention to what Roland White was saying, and felt a hard knot in her stomach. Her secret nest egg was the blackmail that Hester had been doing to her husband's lawyer. Suddenly the journal that accompanied the money made sense; it documented specific financial transactions. Those transactions would be known to both the lawyer and her husband, because of the mines.

For one moment she thought about confessing to the whereabouts of the journal and cash, but then decided it wouldn't do any good. Roland White wanted Heath dead – had wanted him dead since they'd arrived in Denver. Sarah cringed as she recalled how charming the lawyer had been to her, to all the Barkleys, even as he was plotting the killing. It came to her now that not only Heath was going to die, but so was she, unless maybe?

If she told Roland she knew where the ledger was, he would keep her alive – at least until he had them in his possession. Sarah calculated on how she could maneuver the situation, to get the lawyer to keep Heath alive while they retrieved the journal. It was clear that the information in the leather bound book was a serious threat to Roland White. Before she could say anything though, Heath spoke.

"Look Roland, I think we can find common ground here. Honestly I just want the mines safely run, and you want them to be profitable. Can't we do business?" Heath offered, hoping to appeal to the lawyer's mercenary streak. He didn't like how frightened Sarah looked, or how the men surrounding her were regarding her.

"Heath, if only I could believe you. However, at the end of the day you will never abandon your need to do the right thing – even if it comes at the expense of your wife." Roland sneered in reply, looking over at Sarah, who was tied up.

"I love my wife and don't want her to die. I don't care about your scheme, and will even pay you a share of the profits." Heath exclaimed, hoping the lawyer would agree to the deal. Even as he hated making it, in the end Sarah's safety was more important. He also hoped that Roland was far enough gone in madness to go along with lure of more money.

"Do you really think I would trust you, after I've admitted to trying to have you killed, before killing you myself?" The reply let Heath know that Roland was still thinking somewhat clearly, and Heath felt a great sadness over take him. He turned his head to look at Sarah with sorrow, mouthing the words _I am so sorry and I love you_ to her.

Sarah felt tears welling up in her eyes, as she saw the depth of feelings in Heath's eyes. She had been taken aback when he'd tried to make a deal with Roland to save her; it had gone against his principles she knew very well. He must love her very much, and she looked at him with gratitude, mouthing the same words to him that he'd said to her.

A chill wind hit her, and Sarah hoped that her death would be quick and easy. The three men holding her looked mean and nasty, and she didn't want to think about what they would want to do to her. Sarah moved her head glancing over her shoulder and was startled to see movement among the clump of white barked trees. Maybe help was coming after all? If so she realized she needed to buy some time.

"Roland I know where the ledger is, along with the money Hester took." Sarah saw Roland glance over at her, even as he kept his gun trained on Heath. Now, she only had to be careful to say enough to keep him interested, but not reveal that it was in her possession. "I was helping Priscilla clear the house out, and found them in a box of drapery fabric. I wasn't sure what to do, so I left the items there; the box is with the other items being shipped to Stockton." The story sounded plausible, and Sarah noted that Roland was now staring at her with great interest.

Heath heard was Sarah was saying, and at first was appalled at what she was doing, until he saw the lawyer's eyes turn away from him. He knew that this was his only chance, so he went to lunge at Roland, hoping to knock him down. The lawyer needed to be off balance before he could get a shot off; even as he was moving towards Roland a melee broke out in the clearing.

Nick had found out from the deputy with the injured horse where the posse was meeting, and had quickly ridden up to join them. Jack Regan had been surprised to see Nick, but listened to what he had to say. He had then told Nick his observations, and who they were pursuing and why. Hearing that Roland White was a suspect, and that he'd followed Heath out of town, didn't make a lot of sense to Nick. He was glad though that the detective wasn't going to arrest or shoot Heath, so he followed the armed men to a spot that overlooked the clearing.

The vantage point let Nick see Roland holding a gun on Heath, as three masked men tied up Sarah. Jack Regan indicated to Nick to dismount, and follow him down a path. They ended up in a grove of trees, next to the clearing, which gave them the ideal spot to hear what Roland was saying. Nick also noted how the other men of the posse were positioning themselves around the clearing, surrounding the area.

Nick had wanted to charge into the clearing right away, and had even drawn his gun but Jack put a warning hand on his arm. He understood what the detective wanted, which was Roland' confession, but Nick didn't want it to come at the expense of Heath and Sarah's lives. When he saw Heath lunge for Roland, Nick couldn't wait any longer and rose up.

He burst into the clearing, as did the other men who'd surrounded the area. His target was the lawyer, and it was with great satisfaction that he tackled Roland to the ground. As far as the rest, the odds were ten to four, and the fight was soon over, with no injuries. Nick had been afraid that everyone would start shooting, with bullets ricocheting all over. Later he found out that Jack had given men specific instructions not to fire unless as a last resort.

"Brother I have never been so glad to see you as now, but really I wanted to take the slimy bastard down! Why do you always get the last punch in?" Heath quipped, regarding his brother and Roland White on the ground. It surprised him to see Jack Regan rush in to take over hog tying the lawyer, but then Sarah's whimper caught his attention.

"My darling, oh I am so sorry!" Heath declared as he unbound the ropes and helped her to stand up. As he supported her Heath felt the hard chills coursing through her body, and noted how Sarah's face was white, and the pupils in her eyes were dilated. She was close to going into shock, and he reacted quickly.

"Please, God I need some blankets and whiskey!" Heath shouted, as he pulled her close against him. One of the men brought a roughly woven blanket up, and Heath quickly wrapped it around Sarah's waist and legs. A flask of whiskey was pushed into Heath's hand, and he forced Sarah to drink some small sips.

"She needs a doctor; can someone help me get her to town?" Heath felt so helpless, as he regarded Sarah, knowing his actions had only been stop gap measures. He was filled with guilt because her condition was all due to him. He'd been so focused on mining reform and Logan Dawes' death that he had not seen anything else going on around him.

Further Heath now realized that he should have paid attention to the warnings, from the café owner, about bandits outside of town. He had admitted to himself that there could be sketchy characters around mining towns, but had not considered the danger that he'd attracted since being in Colorado. It came to him that he'd set up this scenario, that had ended with Sarah being in grave danger.

Heath was relieved when the surrey he'd rented earlier pulled up, and further when he saw that Nick was holding the reins. He lifted Sarah up carefully, and settled her on the seat, positioning himself next to her. His last look at the clearing was Jack Regan manhandling Roland White to his feet, as the deputies rounded up his henchman. At the back of his mind were many questions, especially how the detective had come to be in the clearing. Heath knew though that explanations would take have to wait until Sarah was safe.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Chapter Twenty-Three**_

"She is going to be fine, now that she is warmed up. Wrapping her in a warm blanket and giving her a shot of whiskey was smart." The doctor spoke to Heath, in the waiting room. It had been over an hour since he'd arrived at the office, holding Sarah tightly. The drive to town had seemed to take an eternity, even as Heath pushed the horse and carriage fast as he could.

"Is she awake? Can I talk to her?" Heath let loose a sigh of relief, glad to know that Sarah wasn't in danger anymore. The doctor nodded his head and escorted Heath into the back room, where Sarah was resting on a small iron frame bed. He noted several heavy quilts on top of her, along with a roaring fire emitting heat. The room felt overly warm to him, but knew that it was for Sarah's sake.

"Sarah, it's me." Heath waited until the doctor left the room, and pulled a chair up next to the bed. It appeared that she was sleeping, and he gently reached under the covers, to take her hand. She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes.

"Heath, Heath, where am I? Those men!" Her hazel eyes flew open and she jerked up, causing some of the blankets to slip. He took her in his arms, before laying her back down, rearranging the quilts to cover her up.

"It is fine and you are safe, darlin. The men, and Roland White, are in jail." Heath went on to explain what had happened, with Nick, Jack Regan, and the posse showing up at the last minute. Or rather he explained what he could, since he still didn't know how or why they'd come to be there.

"So it was Roland White all along, because he was stealing money? That seems a rather dramatic turn of events. What would killing you do?" Sarah, after several sips of hot tea, answered. She went to sit up, and Heath was quick to help her, putting a pillow against her back.

"Roland knew that I would figure out his scheme, since I would be on-site in the mines, as well as have access to the financial documents." Heath ruefully shook his head, still annoyed at how he'd been duped by the lawyer. He also acknowledged to himself that he'd been too wrapped up in mining reform and a ghost from his past.

"I owe you an apology Sarah, as I am to blame for what happened. It wasn't fair of me to put the mines – and Logan Dawes – ahead of you. I promise that I will do better from now on, and make sure that you are my priority. I love you." Heath's voice was soft, and he took several deep breaths while delivering the words. It was hard to say them, but he knew that Sarah needed to know how much she meant to him.

He knew his desire to help those that he could, along with the tendency to focus on righting wrongs, made him not always consider other people. Heath winced internally, knowing how he could go off on his own, without a bye-your-leave to anyone. However, he acknowledged, he was now a married man; his wife had the expectation of being his main priority. Up until now though he had not given Sarah the attention and consideration she needed.

Sarah removed her hands from his, to pull the covers higher up; she didn't think she would ever be warm again. The memory of the cold clinging to her body was still with her, causing a chill to go up her spine. She let it pass, as she studied her husband, his blue eyes pleading with her, to forgive him. It amazed her that he was being so open about his actions and feelings. Sarah nestled under the blankets and thought about what Heath had said.

She wanted to believe him, and knew that as his wife she should believe him; in her heart though she had her doubts. Sarah was honest enough to allow that her doubts were not just about Heath, but her heart and her marriage also. She felt like she'd learned a great deal about herself on the trip to Colorado, and wasn't the same person as when she'd left California. However, she didn't know how, or was even sure if she wanted to, acknowledge that to Heath.

"I don't think you could have anticipated Roland White and his gang attacking us in the clearing. He looked like the type of man who never left town." Sarah smiled at Heath, trying to think of what to say next. She recalled how he was willing to make a deal with the lawyer, to save her and sighed. Heath would give his life to save hers, and would protect her no matter what.

"Oh Heath, there is nothing to apologize for. You were just trying to do the right thing, for the miners and I understand that." She put her arms around him and kissed his forehead. "I wish you would have told me about Logan Dawes; I would have understood your actions better." She felt him put his arms around her, pulling her close. Heath's lips found hers, and as the kiss deepened Sarah felt passion overtaking her.

"Mmm, ah, excuse me?" The sound of the doctor's voice caused the couple to break off the kiss, but Heath gave his wife a quick wink. When they were back at their hotel, well he could finish making everything all right. The fact that Sarah wasn't angry with him made him feel blessed and the luckiest man on earth.

"There is a Detective Jack Regan who wants to talk with you both." The doctor stated, as a loud voice could be heard coming from the waiting room. "And your brother is also here to see you. Shall I show them in?" It was clear to Heath that the doctor wanted Nick out of the waiting room, so he indicated to show them in. Heath was very curious as to how Jack Regan and his brother had come to the clearing.

After the men were shown in, several minutes were spent as the detective enquired about Sarah. Nick added that Priscilla sent her regards, and was waiting to see her back at the hotel. The men pulled up chairs, so Sarah could hear everything.

"Heath when you were almost run over yesterday." Jack began, and Heath saw Sarah turn to look at him with surprise. He remembered that he hadn't said anything to her about the incident, and gave her an apologetic look. The detective had not noticed Sarah's reaction and was still talking.

"Your comment about the mayhem in Denver following you up to Georgetown made me remember something I'd seen earlier that morning." Jack went on to explain that while doing rounds at the trouble spots in town he'd seen a cowboy who looked out of place. "His gait and bearing didn't match the clothes he was wearing, and when I saw his face it reminded me of Roland White. I'm trained to recognize features, even when they are disguised, but at the time it had not made any sense for Roland White to be dressed like that."

"The wagon that almost ran you down was similar to one that had been outside the saloon where I'd seen the _strange_ cowboy." Jack tilted his head and gave Heath a hard stare. "I couldn't think of why Roland White would be involved in you being killed until I remembered the train ride up to Georgetown. I sat with him, and he was very happy to share with me the doubts he had about your character. Now two things make me suspicious, Heath; suspects who aren't honest with me and witnesses that are way too helpful. Do you see where I am going with this?"

Heath understood what Jack Regan was telling him, that his refusal to tell the detective about his past with Logan Dawes had made the case harder to solve. He nodded his head to the man's statement, and indicated for Jack to go on.

"I put the facts together and started to suspect Roland White. I telegraphed my partner in Denver, to see what he could find out. In the meantime I made it a point to follow the lawyer, and this morning when he turned up in his cowboy clothes I knew I was onto something. Leaving a deputy to keep an eye on Roland, I went to the Marshall and asked him to form a posse." The detective detailed how he followed Roland as he hired the thugs, and trailed Heath and Sarah to the clearing.

"Mrs. Barkley I know that you are still recovering from your ordeal, but I need to ask you about a statement you made, to Roland White." Jack Regan directed his attention to Sarah, and Heath felt her stiffening up.

"Detective do you have to do this now? My wife suffered a great deal and needs to rest." Heath spoke up, hoping to deflect the man's questions, but Jack wasn't going to back off.

"No Heath, I have to ask; it is pertinent to the investigation and the charges against Roland White." There was a strident note in the man's voice and Heath's shoulders dropped, as he moved to take Sarah's hand.

"I just want to get this all over with, and go home!" Sarah's voice hitched as she spoke. "What do you want to know Detective?" Heath felt so bad for her, even as he wondered what was so important that Jack needed to know.

"You stated that you knew the whereabouts of a journal and money that Roland White was looking for. Per his statement, it contained evidence of his embezzling from the VanDer Hoffen estate." That made Heath remember Roland talking about the materials, in reference to Hester and what she'd done to him. He also recalled what Sarah had said, but had assumed it was just a dodge, to buy them some time. _But what if it wasn't?_ He pondered, a hard knot forming in his stomach.

"I just said that, because finding the items seemed so important to Roland White. My hope was that it would buy us some time, and maybe keep us from being killed." Sarah's words were diffident and spoken softly. Heath was sure that she was reliving the event, of being tied up and almost killed. He was also reassured that his guess had been correct, about her motives. There was no reason to doubt Sarah, Heath chided himself silently.

"Does it really matter Detective if the book is found or not? Roland White has confessed." Nick's booming voice filled the room. "Look, you have your crook and we heard how he paid an assassin to kill Logan Dawes." This was news to Heath, and when he asked Jack told him that Roland had paid someone to kill him. Logan had been killed by mistake, when the assassin mistook him for Heath. Nick's next words interrupted Heath's thoughts. "My plan is we head back to Denver tomorrow, and leave for California the next day."

Heath agreed with Nick's plan, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Yes, the mining reform was important, but he could manage most it from California. He had already decided to offer Andre Moix the job of on-site engineer; the man was capable and knew the mines. That would leave Heath more time to spend with Sarah, as he'd promised her.

"Yes, that won't be a problem Nick. I don't see a trial happening, because of Roland's confession, and I'm sure the VanDer Hoffen trust will want the matter of the embezzlement handled quietly." Jack replied, standing up to leave. Heath, knowing that Priscilla _was the trust_ , was sure that she wouldn't want a trial either. It would entail publically acknowledging what her sister had been doing, and he couldn't see her wanting more dirty laundry aired in public.

Later that evening Heath and Sarah were entwined in each other's arms, under the covers in their bed in the hotel room. The doctor had released Sarah, and when they arrived back at the Hotel De Paris, she had stated that she wanted dinner in the hotel dining room. Heath was ready to go along with anything, being glad that she had forgiven him. He remembered the stirrings of passion he'd felt in her earlier, so was looking forward to the time after the meal.

"I love you Sarah. I promise I will be a better husband." Heath laid a gentle kiss on her check, as he brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead. When they had finished dinner he'd escorted her back to their room, for time alone. He'd barely had time to lock the door, and their scattered clothes on the floor were proof of the passion of their coming together.

"Heath I love you too. Thank you for trying to save me today." Her reply was accompanied by her body moving against his. Heath was more than ready to respond to her, and the rest of her words were lost as he kissed her. No, it wasn't camping out in the mountains, but for Heath having her with him now was enough.

 _Finis – For Now_


End file.
